


Scarlet Letter

by choupichoups



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Abundance of Pining, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Mama Lallemant remarries, Eliott doesn't always fall in love, Fluff, Forbidden love and such, M/M, Romance, but when he does it's supremely dramatic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choupichoups/pseuds/choupichoups
Summary: Eliott falls helplessly infatuated with his best friend’s little brother— he knows he’s writing up his own death wish going after this boy, but fuck if Lucas isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.Or: Eliott’s under the impression that his best friend’s new step brother, ‘Lulu’, is a literal baby. Nobody tells him the guy’s actually a fucking babe-y.





	1. Chapter 1

The first big party of the semester is always a hit— people hooking up left and right with no hope of remembering any names come the morning light. At this point of the year, nobody gives much of a fuck about anything. Much less the first years, who’ve all got the same _reinvent myself_ mentality that would either lift or destroy them in the long run.

Eliott is in his fifth semester already. He doesn’t give much of a fuck at any point in time.

A girl with burnt whiskey eyes catches his gaze while sauntering past, long dark hair falling in soft waves down her back. Her face is quite lovely in the midst of the sweaty heaps of bodies wriggling on the makeshift dance floor and Eliott smiles, eyes dark with challenge, but his feet don’t move from their spot.  

“Already scouting the first years, I see.”

Eliott turns towards the voice, only mildly irritated by the interruption. “You know how it is.”

“Uh huh,” Adrien chuckles into his bottle, taking a long sip from his beer before pointing out a nervous looking boy by the speakers. “Thought that was more of your type?” The boy is tall, not as much as Eliott but enough to make him noticeable. His features are rounded and his carefully styled hair is just begging for searching hands to muss it up. If Eliott’s a little less sober than he currently is, then maybe he can settle for it.

But alas.

“I don’t have a type,” Eliott says, eyes casting around for the girl with the nice hair. “Last time was a fluke.” Benjamin had been the resident _know it all_ in his literature class; cute but talked too much, argued too much, stressed out too much. Eliott had done him a favour with that fling last year— no, really, Benjamin's still one of his most pleasant break ups to happen that year. Maybe even of all time. They still text sometimes and all.

“You’re the worst,” Adrien snorts.

“Aw, don’t be jealous, someone’s bound to kiss you before we graduate, you’ll see.” It’s not long before he gives up looking for the girl, mostly because he’s already half forgotten what she looks like and he can’t be bothered to put more effort into the search.

“Oh fuck off, I got game.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Eliott smiles, laughing as he dodges Adrien’s swing at his head. It’s an easy feat— the alcohol has made his best friend quite slow.

“Shut up!” Adrien frowns, but doesn’t try for another swipe. “Oh, I’ve got someone I wanna introduce to you, actually.” He starts looking out into the crowd but a displeased pout is quick to form over his lips when he can’t seem find the person he’s looking for.

“Someone cute?” Eliott teases, grinning when he dodges a kick to his shin. “Geez, no need for violence.”

“No fucking kidding, man, stay away from this one.”

“Then what’s the point of introducing us?”

“You’re hopeless, you know that? When will you stop looking at people as things to play with? That’s gotta be tiring, man.”

Eliott shrugs, immune to each and every one of Adrien’s righteous spiels. He doesn’t take offence to it, used to the lack of filter that comes with the copious amount of alcohol consumed.

Adrien eventually gives up on searching the crowd. Granted, sticking his head out in one direction or another like some confused imitation of a mother goose isn’t exactly the best way to find someone in a jam-packed apartment but Eliott isn’t about to call him out on it.

“Where are the others?” he asks instead.

Adrien nods towards the backyard. “Out back.”

“Cool, you coming?”

“Nah, I have to look for someone, catch ya later.” 

Making his way through the crowd is quite an interesting challenge. Eliott allows some wandering hands to pull him close, hoping that one of them would be enough to snap him out of this drudging atmosphere. But he quickly grows tired of that game— no amount of drunken grinding and senseless conversations tempt him stay.

Boring. Everything’s so fucking boring.

“Eliott!” His idiot friends cheer once he gets outside, getting a genuine laugh to pass through his lips. Idriss has his arms held out for a hug but Eliott very intentionally walks a giant circle around him, sitting next to Sofiane instead. Idriss flips him off.

“Having fun?” He nudges shoulders with a hunched up Sofiane, who blinks at him as if he doesn’t hear a word Eliott says. “Enjoying the party?” he repeats with a fond chuckle.

“Oh! Yeah, uh,” Sofiane hums, glancing back down at his phone. It lights up with a text from Imane. “It’s okay, I guess.”

Eliott rolls his eyes and leaves him to his pining. Sofiane gets extra sappy during the late hours of the night and he doesn’t even need the help of alcohol to get there; the fact that he doesn’t drink is probably a blessing for those around him.

He gets up to borrow a lighter from one of Idriss’ friends — Eliott can’t remember the guy’s name for the life of him — and pulls out the joint he’d been saving for much, much later into the party, but desperate times, desperate measures, etcetera etcetera.

“Eli, can you get us some more drinks, please?” Idriss calls out from where he’s slouched into a lawn chair, looking like he needs a nap and a huge bottle of water more than anything else.

“You sure?” Eliott surveys the piles of empty beer cans and bottles littering the ground. The amount is just a tad bit worrying but nobody else seems to be in a panic about it so Eliott lets it be. There must be a reason behind it and he’s also not about to act like any of their mothers.

“Super sure!”

He goes back inside with a shrug, unlit joint and lighter slipping back into his pockets. It’s not like the backyard company is any more stimulating than the ones inside. For god’s sake, he’s bored out of his goddamn _mind_. He might as well just go home and watch _Animal Planet_ at this point. It’d probably bring about the same amount of joy as he’s feeling right now. Except he’d have the privilege of being in his pyjamas.

The fridge is empty of anything but cases upon cases of beer. Eliott turns each pack over, wincing at the brands. Even the alcohol is boring, fuck.  

“Top left cupboard.”

And alright, nobody can blame him for the little jump he does at the sound of that voice— he swears the kitchen was empty when he’d entered it.

Eliott whirls around to face the person who’d tried to give him a heart attack, prepared to bite back with a slightly snappy response only to find himself face to face with cutting cheekbones and full lips curled into the most adorable of smiles. The boy’s hair is a divine mess, falling over large eyes as blue as the deepest waters of the sea.  

 _Holy shit_ , he’s beautiful.

Eliott kicks the fridge shut, all thoughts of alcohol wiped from his mind. “What?”

The boy tilts his head. _Cute_ , Eliott’s mind supplies.

“They’re hiding the good beer inside the top left cupboard,” the boy elaborates, legs swinging back and forth from where he’s perched up on one of the kitchen counters. Eliott’s eyes follow the movement, wondering how long it would take for him to get those very same legs wrapped around his waist. Preferably sometime soon. Behind closed doors. Sometime tonight, actually. Eliott isn’t made for waiting.

“And you know that how?”

“I’ve been in here for too long, apparently.” The boy shrugs, offering another tiny smile before he drops his eyes back down to his phone.

No, that won’t do. Eliott wants this boy’s attention all to himself. So he steps closer, wiping a hand over his lips as he thinks of which guns to pull.

But before he can make his move, another boy enters the kitchen with frantic hands waving in the air, heading straight for the space in front of Eliott’s boy without so much as a glance around. There’s a small, crooked joint sitting in between the newcomer’s fingers and from what Eliott can catch of his rambling, he’s gloating about scoring it for cheap.

“What?” His boy asks, sounding amused. “Slow down, Bas, I literally can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Eliott comes up behind the guy — Bas? — and picks the joint out of his grip, easy as stealing candy from a child.

“Hey!” Bas yelps, eyebrows furrowed as he turns around to puff up at his offender. Eliott almost laughs when Bas’ expression melts into half fear half wonder at the sight of Eliott hovering over them.

“You got tricked,” Eliott says, inspecting the poorly rolled mess in his hand. “This thing is shit. Whoever gave you this tried to pull a fast one.”

Bas squawks, mumbling equal amounts of gratitude and colourful curses as he takes the joint back from Eliott and rushes out of the kitchen, presumably to give his dealer a piece of his mind.

“Was that true?” His boy asks, and Eliott finds that he enjoys the playful glint in those pretty blue eyes a little too much.

Just as playfully, he responds with a raise of an eyebrow. “Of course,” he says, digging his joint and the borrowed lighter out of his pockets. He wiggles it in between the two of them until a wide smile breaks out from the boy’s tantalizing bite over his lips. “I’m Eliott.”

“Lucas.”

 _Lucas_ , he repeats in the safe privacy of his mind. It’s only fitting— a pretty name for a pretty boy. He wonders how it feels for that name to roll off his tongue.

Eliott brings the joint to his lips, not once looking away from the staring match he and Lucas have unwittingly started. Lucas is the one to break first, glancing down at the darkened screen of his phone and then away to the side where a suspicious looking stain is splattered on the wall.

Wordlessly, Eliott flicks his thumb over the lighter and lets the smoke fill his lungs, the familiar sensation rolling over him as he thinks of the most delicate way to ask if Lucas is interested in examining the walls of Eliott’s bedroom instead.

“So what, are you some sort of weed master, Eliott?”

Eyes closed, Eliott chuckles, slowly inching in as he whispers, “No, I just know the good stuff.”

“Right.”

“You don’t believe me.” He takes another hit, head turned slightly to the left as he exhales. They’re close enough that blowing the smoke right in front of Lucas would be considered nothing short of suggestive and while Eliott plans to do exactly that, he needs a bit more reassurance that Lucas is as on board with this as he is.  

And Lucas, bless his tempting little self, has that plush bottom lip trapped in between his teeth when Eliott glances back at him. “Not unless you share,” Lucas mumbles, looking up at Eliott from below his lashes. Eliott’s sure Lucas has _got_ to be aware of what he’s doing. There’s no way any of this is done out of oblivion.

“I’m afraid you can’t handle it.” Eliott grins, daring himself to step even closer. A giddy part of him cheers when Lucas opens his legs wider to allow Eliott a space in between.

“You don’t think I can handle a little smoking?” Lucas leans back the slightest bit, balancing on the balls of his palms placed behind himself on the counter.

Eliott recovers the distance with a simple tilt of his head. “No,” he says, pleased when Lucas makes no other move to back off. “Something else.”

“Oh yeah?” The question is a whisper that sends heat coursing along Eliott’s bloodstream, which is ridiculous. Lucas hasn’t done anything but _speak_. “What then?”

Eliott brings the joint back to his mouth, taking a deep hit as he reaches over and presses a thumb over Lucas’ petal soft lips, almost groaning out loud when the boy opens up with ease, pliant under Eliott’s touch.

Their noses brush gently as Eliott aligns their mouths, lips parting to blow the smoke into Lucas’ waiting ones. He watches with hooded eyes the way Lucas’ own pair slide shut, breathing soundlessly as he takes in everything Eliott gives.

Magnetized by the alluring sight, Eliott falls forward, fully intending to close what’s left of the distance between them.

Unfortunately for him, Lucas has other plans. Their upper lips have barely grazed each other before Lucas tilts his head up, away from the loose touch of Eliott’s thumb. But with the distance as small as it is, Lucas’ mouth _drags_ along Eliott’s own when he moves— a provocative hint of the taste Eliott’s been quite cruelly deprived of.

Stunned, Eliott can only nuzzle into the underside of Lucas’ chin, laughing in disbelief as this infuriating boy exhales the smoke up at the ceiling.

He feels Lucas’ body move soon after and Eliott shivers at the feeling of cool hands landing on the back of his neck. Lucas is smiling when Eliott straightens back up, looking equal parts endearing and dangerous. His fingers slide up the length of Eliott’s jaw, up behind his ears, and into the hair at the back of his head, scratching down until they land right back on his nape. The tips of his fingers have dipped into the neck of Eliott’s shirt, electrifying the small span of skin he touches.

Forcefully clearing the haze from his brain, Eliott goes in for another try, only for Lucas to curl up so that Eliott’s lips land on his forehead instead. Lucas’ laugh is a warm huff of breath over his collarbone and it feels like a cheeky apology, one that Eliott’s quick to accept with a chuckle of his own. 

Eliott can’t believe he’s getting so worked up over some boy who denies him kisses and makes it up to him with fleeting, barely there touches. His friends would be rolling on the floor if they see him now.

But it doesn’t matter, because Lucas is so fucking hot and Eliott wants him so fucking bad.

He doesn’t notice the joint being taken from his hand until Lucas has lifted it to his own mouth. Eliott is mesmerized as he watches Lucas’ tongue dart out to wet his lips before taking a hit, cheeks hollowing from the initial inhale. Eliott’s head isn’t constantly in the gutter, mind you, but Lucas isn’t leaving him with much of a choice over here.

Both hands now free, Eliott intends to take back his control over the situation, but Lucas lifts his arms, landing warm and light over Eliott’s shoulders, twining around his neck, and Eliott finds himself dazed all over. His hands are loosely gripping the back of Lucas’ knees, and they’d maybe give an illusion of a purpose if Eliott isn’t so acutely focused on figuring out how to kiss Lucas before he dies from all the teasing.

Lucas shuffles invitingly close and blows the smoke into the corner of Eliott’s slightly parted lips. Eliott can feel the heat from the joint behind his head where Lucas’ arms are still curled. Or maybe that’s just the heat from Lucas’ body. He doesn’t know, Eliott can’t tell shit apart at this point. All he knows is that there’s a warmth everywhere as he exhales, watching clouds of smoke mingle in the air below the fluorescent kitchen lights.

He’s just about regained control over his own limbs, hands starting to tighten around Lucas, just about ready to fucking carry him straight into a bedroom— it doesn’t even have to be Eliott’s bedroom, he doesn’t mind, when all of a sudden he’s cold all over. All traces of warmth is gone from his arms and he looks down just in time to see Lucas somehow sliding smoothly off the counter and then hopping towards the living room in one quick movement.

“Thanks, Eliott,” Lucas pipes up, looking back at Eliott over his shoulder. His grin is wide and buoyant, looking way too pleased with himself. Eliott feels like he should be offended about _something_ but he’s having trouble keeping up as it is.

What the fuck just happened?

He stands in the kitchen, staring blankly at the counter as he replays the last couple of minutes in his head— because that’s all it's been. No matter how much his brain is dramatically insisting that an entire lifetime has passed since the whirlwind that is Lucas, it truly only has been a couple of minutes since they’ve met.

His feet take him out of the kitchen before his brain follows the movement. It also belatedly registers that the dumb smile that’s stuck on his face won’t go away any time soon.

Friends and acquaintances alike find him wandering the place with his eyes lifted far, their attempts at conversation politely cut short as he searches above everyone’s heads for the only face he wants to see.

It takes Eliott a full hour to understand that Lucas has stolen his joint. 

 

* * *

  

His mystery boy has vanished into thin air. Eliott can’t find him anywhere, which doesn’t even make sense. It’s not like the apartment is massive or anything. But the crowd is gradually thinning out, those with sense still left in them are heading out to better prepare themselves for the torture that is the coming week ahead and—

Ah. There he is.

Eliott spots him beside the balcony doors, flanked between two girls who seem to be in a deep, animated discussion with him.

“Yo, Eliott, we’re leaving.” Someone calls out from behind him and Eliott thinks that’s Sofiane. He’s the only one always sober enough to relay proper information between their group.

The only response he can muster is a distracted hum, but he does twist around to spare a quick glance at Idriss, who’s now laughing way too loud at everything he sees around him. Nothing particularly entertaining is going on so Eliott assumes it really is about time for Idriss to make his leave.

Eliott rolls his eyes, sharing an exasperated glance with Sofiane as he watches the poor boy try to talk Idriss out of sitting in with the giant game of truth or dare in the dining room. Luckily enough, Adrien checks in on them soon after. For whatever reason, he’s the only one Idriss listens to whenever the latter is drunk out of his mind. The trio exchange quick, silent looks between themselves before an amused Adrien finally convinces Idriss to make his merry way back to the front door.

A commotion by the balcony steals Eliott’s attention away from his stumbling friends, and he looks back to where he’s last seen Lucas just in time to watch the latter laugh at some guy who looks like he’s spilled an entire can of beer down his shirt. The music’s too loud for Eliott to hear the sound of it but his own lips twitch at the mere sight either way.

He doesn’t realize Sofiane’s snuck up behind him, following Eliott’s line of vision, until he hears an incredulous, “Oh no, Eliott. I wouldn’t go for that one.”

Eliott has to peel his eyes off of Lucas’ radiant smile. “Huh?”

Sofiane eyes him dubiously. “You’re looking at the boy in the gray hoodie, right?”

“Uh.” Apparently his non-answer is enough. Sofiane reaches for his shoulders and starts shaking him quite violently. Eliott gathers his wits about him and brushes the offending hands away from his person. “Why not?” he complains, aware that he sounds like a scolded pre-schooler.

“Bro, that’s Lucas,” Sofiane says urgently and, well, yes? Eliott wants to voice out his thoughts but Sofiane’s looking at him like there’s some kind of revelation to be had. Whatever it is goes way past over Eliott’s head.

“And?” Eliott drags the word out, frown deepening when Sofiane’s expression pinches strangely, like he isn’t sure whether to fuss over worrying or just outright laugh. It’s a face Eliott’s grown very familiar with.

“Adrien’s Lucas?”

Eliott remains staring at him incomprehensibly.

Sofiane’s starting to look a bit constipated. “You know… his precious Lulu? That’s him.”

Oh.

“That’s Adrien’s little brother.”

Oh _fuck_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've heard of disaster Lucas  
> Now get ready for: disaster Eliott
> 
> Jk he's still smooth I guess 
> 
> Thanks for reading pals, you can find me @ [choupichoups](https://choupichoups.tumblr.com) on Tumblr


	2. Chapter 2

It takes two whole days for Eliott to reconcile with the fact that Lucas ‘Lulu’ Delacroix is not, in fact, a five year old toddler. From the way Adrien talks about him, gushing about how _tiny_ and _adorable_ and _sweet_ he is, nobody can possibly fault Eliott for getting the wrong idea.

It takes three more days of juggling the pros and cons before he comes to the conclusion that it’s for everyone’s best interest if he just works on forgetting about Lucas altogether.

Ever since that fateful day in first grade when their teacher had forcefully made her students sit in order of their last names, Adrien has been a stable, grounding presence by Eliott's side. He's not eager to put to test one of the best things he's got going. Not even for a chance to have those pretty blues looking up at him again, not for the feel of those soft hands around Eliott's neck, sliding up to card through the hair at the back of his head, not for the warmth of those legs wrapped around his—

"Eliott?"

Not for any of those. He hasn't even thought about it for a while now. Most especially not the smell of his hair nor the shape of his smile.

“Eliott!”

Carefully, he checks that his mask of indifference is still perfectly in place before he turns his focus back on Christine, a classmate he’s been partnered up with for a small assignment. “Yeah?" he asks, smiling in hopes of it being distracting enough for her to let him get away with the inattention.

It works. Of course it works. She beams right back at him and graciously repeats herself. ”I was asking if later tonight is good for you?”

Eliott backtracks into their conversation, realizing that he has no idea how to answer that. He thinks he’s got it, vaguely remembering her mentioning a gig at some bar. Maybe going out with her would help take his mind off of Lucas.

There’s a muffled thud followed by the sound of books crashing together— the commotion is loud in the hush of the library and Eliott turns his head, peeking in between the shelves. His stomach does a somersault when he spies a familiar head of wild hair frantically moving around in the next aisle.

“So?” Christine asks again, looking steadily more confused the longer Eliott takes to answer.

“Ah,” he says, eyes switching between her and the small gap from where he watches Lucas’ head disappear, presumably to pick up the books he’s tumbled over. Eliott itches to run to him. Alone at the back of the library with his boy? Ever the opportunistic fool, it’s truly way too much for Eliott’s fragile self control to pass up. “I’ll have to check something first, I’ll text you,” he mumbles out quickly, making his leave with a final smile towards Christine. She waves him a cheerful goodbye without remembering that Eliott does not, in fact, have her phone number.

He pauses at the last minute, standing just beside the shelf, watching Lucas return some titles back into the shelf while leaving some on the ground. What little semblance is left of Eliott’s resolve melts right away when Lucas lifts onto his toes to reach for a book but doesn’t quite get there, fingers barely grazing the spine.

Eliott decides _fuck it_ , he’s going to approach. They’re both adults here. And what Adrien doesn’t know won’t kill him anyway.

He watches Lucas huff to himself for a second longer before sliding right up behind the struggling boy and snatching the book off its shelf. Lucas jumps, wide eyes going straight to Eliott. When he turns around, it lands him smack dab into the circle of Eliott’s arms.

Book in hand, Eliott stands there smiling while Lucas blinks back at him like a startled baby animal.

“Um,” Lucas starts, eyes darting from Eliott and then to the book he’s got high up in the air, held well out of Lucas’ reach. “I need that.”

“Yeah, well.” Eliott shrugs, pretending to think about it. “I got it first so… what if I need it too?”

“But I found it first.”

“I have it in my hands.”

Lucas is frowning now, looking dangerously close to stomping his feet. “I really need it today, you can have it tomorrow, I swear.”

It’s cute that Lucas thinks this has anything to do with the book at all.

“Eh, I don’t think so.” Eliott dodges easily when Lucas makes a lunge upward. “You’re the one who owes me over here, Lucas.”

If Eliott’s self preservation instincts are in working order, he’d realize that now is a good time to back off. Irritation practically steams out of Lucas’ skin. “Me? Owe _you_ wh—” Lucas stops then, looking properly up at Eliott rather than the book he’s so desperate to get his hands on. His eyes waver, drifting from Eliott’s face, down to the ground and back, before he seems to have an epiphany, hypothetical lightbulb glowing above his head. “Weed guy,” he mutters under his breath.

Weed guy? Seriously? Lucas has been running maddening circles around Eliott’s head for five excruciating days only for his boy to remember him as _weed guy_?

Ouch.

“Eliott, actually,” he corrects with a tight smile. He’s been contemplating giving the book back to Lucas after he finally recognizes Eliott but he retracts that thought now— petty in the face of such a dismissal. He holds the book up higher, prompting Lucas to _jump_ up in a bid to snatch it from Eliott’s grip, laughing when it only works to bring them closer together.

Lucas backs up as much as he can, pouting while his eyes track the book. Unfortunately for Lucas, Eliott’s apparently reverted back to grade school mindset so the expression only makes Eliott want to tease him some more. What’s so good about the stupid book anyway? Eliott’s right there, Lucas should be paying attention to him.

“Look, I’m sorry about the party, okay? I was a little drunk.” Lucas drops to his knees and starts stacking the books in his arms.

Eliott lifts an eyebrow. “Sorry about what?”

When Lucas springs back up, it’s with his lips pursed, arms tight around the bundle of books as he gets right up in Eliott’s space. “I’m sorry for stealing your stuff, can I have my book back now?”

After the show Lucas had treated him with at the party, he really thinks that Eliott still cares about that joint? “I don’t care about the weed.”

“Really?”

“I’ve got lots where that comes from.”

“Oh, do you now.”

“Mhm, I’m very resourceful.” Eliott grins, bringing the book back down. Lucas picks it out of his hands, indignant. “They’re back at my place, in fact. Wanna come join me? We can just smoke and chill.”

“No.”

Eliott blinks, not expecting such a quick shut down. “No?”

“I don’t know you.” Lucas rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to a stranger’s place alone.”

His mind whirs for a nonexistent Plan B, sticky little fingers in his brain making grabby hands for something, _anything_ that would interest Lucas enough to have him agree. “Ah, okay. How about… there’s a thing at some bar nearby, me and a few others are heading there tonight. You can come if you want. Heard the music’s gonna be cool.”

“Wow, a thing at some bar? Tempting,” Lucas responds, shaking his head. “But no, I’m not into that.”

He’s missed the mark by a mile. “Alright, fine, I get it. You’re not going out with me...” Eliott recognizes his defeat. “... today.” he tacks on at the end, eyebrows rising playfully when Lucas rolls his eyes yet again.

He doesn’t know what it says about him when Lucas smiles and it still feels like he’s won despite getting turned down. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not going out at all,” Lucas says, squeezing the books closer to his chest. “I’m busy.”

“That’s too bad,” Eliott grins back, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “You look really cute today.”

The pink in Lucas’ cheeks is an unexpected but very welcome surprise. Eliott watches his lashes flutter as Lucas breaks contact in favour of looking down at their shoes. It’s a strange feeling, watching the soft tinge spread over the bridge of Lucas’ nose. Of course he blushes pretty, Eliott thinks absently, wildly elated to be the cause of that reaction, but it doesn’t bring around the usual sense of victory— Eliott doesn’t feel like he’s caught anything at all, though the warmth blooming across his chest the longer he gazes at Lucas has a small part of his brain warning for him to abort mission.

He ignores it, willful that this is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Can I go now?” Lucas asks, breaking the silence. When Lucas tilts his head back up, there’s no trace of that previous timidness to be found, and Eliott finds himself looking into the same playful eyes that caught him on a chokehold that very first time. “Or are you just going to keep staring at me, _Eliott_?”

His name sounds wonderful coming from Lucas’ lips. Eliott blinks, dropping the arm caging Lucas in place, movement slow and halting like a stringed puppet, the boy in front of him its unwitting master.

“Wait, wait, wait. Give me your number, at least?” Eliott says in a rush, pivoting in the same direction where Lucas is headed. He lifts a hand halfway through but the latter is already out of arm’s reach.

Lucas doesn’t even turn around. “Get it yourself, oh resourceful one.”

And so Eliott’s left in the dust once again— stunned, captivated, and right back on square one.

  

* * *

 

Pre-game is at Sofiane’s. Or their version of a pre-game anyway, seeing as there’s not a drop of alcohol in sight. The four of them are just hanging around to kill time before heading to the bar Christine had been telling Eliott about. He’d had zero intentions of going there, especially after Lucas’ rejection, but Christine had reminded Eliott about it on Instagram, very publically tagged him on a post about it, and the rest of the guys had latched onto the idea like thirsty little leeches, dying of boredom as they evidently are.

“No but seriously, it was so funny like, Lucas had to climb up the rocks in his fucking suit just to look for the ring,” Adrien’s saying, flipping through his phone as he shows Idriss some more photos from his parents’ wedding. Eliott perks up, previously disinterested demeanour found dead in a ditch at the mention of Lucas’ name.

Sofiane comes out of the kitchen, laughing as he balances about a dozen juice boxes in his arms. “Who thought of putting the ring on the dog’s collar? That’s so stupid!”

“They saw it on Pinterest and thought it was cute or something, I don’t know,” Adrien snorts, pausing on a photo. “Here, Lucas lost his tie and ripped his pants at the knee, he looks like a delinquent.”

Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, Eliott straightens from his slouch and looks over, propping his chin up on Adrien’s shoulder for a better view.

As expected, the photo is cute as fuck and Eliott has to consciously mind what his face is doing so as to not give anything away. He blindly reaches for one of the juice boxes and sips on it innocently, the image of a rumpled, grumpy looking Lucas engraved in his retinas. The boys keep going through the photos while Adrien narrates the story behind them and Eliott curls himself into one end of the couch, pulling up his Instagram.

 _Lucas Delacroix_ doesn’t bring him any positive results but seeing as the official marriage between Adrien’s dad and Lucas’ mom only happened recently, it makes more sense for Lucas to have a different last name. He can try lurking in the people Adrien’s following, but scrolling through thousands of people’s profiles isn’t exactly his ideal way to spend an evening so he’d rather not.

Eliott flicks his eyes over to where Adrien’s still giggling over the photos and nonchalantly asks, “What was your stepmom’s last name? Before marrying your dad?”

Thankfully, no one seems to find the question too odd. It _is_ still somewhat related to their topic of conversation so he’s in the clear for now. Idriss takes the phone from Adrien to continue browsing while the latter looks up to the ceiling, emitting a lengthy ‘uh’ noise as he thinks about it before he settles on an unsure, “Clement?”

 _Lucas Clement_ brings up nothing.

“Wait no, Le… Lelonde?”

 _Lucas Lelonde_ isn’t right either.

“No! Okay, it was Lallemant.”

_Lucas Lallemant_

A slow grin breaks out, unhindered, when Eliott clicks on a profile that is unmistakably Lucas’ and he has to straight up muffle a mad giggle as he scrolls through. The opportunity to send a message is right under his nose, but Eliott allows himself to delay a little.

“Why?” Adrien asks, directing the question at Eliott. He misses a beat or two before finally remembering that Adrien is the one to give him the _intel_ and he should come up with an answer right about now.

“Nothing, just wondering,” is his uncreative response.

Sofiane spills his juice laughing at one of the photos and it effectively steals Adrien’s attention away. Eliott goes back to his own phone, clicking at each and every one of Lucas’ posts, finding himself more and more endeared as he goes. Even the stupid meme and blurry concert posts are cute. And don’t get him started on the pictures of his actual face. Fucking adorable.

He doesn’t follow Lucas, inclining towards the safe side on the off chance that Adrien notices the development.

 **srodulv**  
Gotta love being resourceful

A mark shows up below the message, letting Eliott know that Lucas has seen it, yet he receives no reply. But what is Eliott Demaury if not a persistent little shit.

 **srodulv**  
So The Clash huh? I get why you wouldn’t be into the bar thing  
Heard Metallica’s doing a show next Friday  
I can score us some tickets if you want

 **lucallemant**  
Who is this

 **srodulv**  
Your date for next Friday

 **lucallemant**  
Oh  
Cancel it

 **srodulv**  
Wow

 **lucallemant**  
I don’t date strangers

 **srodulv**  
But I’m not a stranger  
I’m your weed guy

 **lucallemant**  
Oh ok  
In that case  
Cancel it

 **srodulv**  
:(

 **lucallemant**  
:)

 **srodulv**  
What will it take for Lucas Lallemant to stop breaking my heart

 **lucallemant**  
Lol  
That would require Eliott Demaury to have a heart

The response gives him pause— that’s some awfully spot on roasting for someone who supposedly doesn’t know who Eliott is.

 **srodulv**  
So you know who I am

 **lucallemant**  
It literally says on your profile

 **srodulv**  
I didn’t mean my name  
How did you know I’ve sold my heart to the devil  

Lucas doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even read the messages. Eliott’s stuck reloading the page like an idiot, exiting and reopening the app just in case there’s a lag affecting his notifications. He’s so focused on mentally convincing Instagram to magically spit out an answer in the form of one particularly frustrating boy that he doesn’t realize Idriss has stood from his spot on the couch and is headed for the space behind him until it’s nearly too late.

“What are you staring at?” Idriss asks, the soft thuds of his footsteps sounding too close for comfort.

Eliott’s fingers spasm in his rush to exit out of the chat and consequently start pressing randomly at his phone screen. “Nothing,” he mutters, accidentally deleting his Twitter app in his fumbling and _oh fuck_ , well, there that goes. He doesn’t use it much anyway. “I’m just playing…” By the time Idriss leans down to peer at Eliott’s phone, he’s got a game up and running, pressing the start button frantically without paying much attention as to what exactly he’s supposedly deemed worthy of his laser focus. “… Temple Run."

“Temple Run.” Idriss repeats blandly.

“Uh, yeah.” He clears his throat, promptly dying when the guy on the screen falls pathetically into a hole. “Got back into it. Addicting as always, hm.”

“Sure.” Idriss eyes him suspiciously but he lets it be. “Come on, we gotta leave or we’ll be late.”

“Can I just stay here?” Eliott says, shuffling into a more comfortable position to get more ground when Adrien stands and starts pulling both him and Sofiane off the couch.

“No, come on, we haven’t done anything in a while.”

“It’s been a week, Adri.” Since that last godforsaken party that landed him in this pathetic situation in the first place.

Sofiane grumbles about having to return the juice boxes back in the fridge but goes easily enough, putting up less of a resistance than Eliott. Adrien gives him a look, sits on the coffee table in front of the couch, and holds up a fist.

Eliott huffs childishly but he answers with a light bump of his own fist against Adrien’s and pushes himself off the couch. It’s a thing they've started since they were children— if one of them notices that the other isn’t cool with something, the other would hold up a fist. An answering fist would mean everything’s fine but an answering palm would mean a bail out. It’s an unchanging dynamic, an existing comfort long before Eliott’s bipolar made itself known.

“Come on, Eli, don’t think I haven’t noticed you stressing out this past week,” Adrien says, draping an arm around Eliott’s shoulder. Eliott gives him a pained smile, guilty as fuck even though his best friend has no idea what exactly he’s been _stressing_ about. “We’ll just take it chill tonight, I won’t even drink that much so we can have intelligent conversations about your superior taste in music!”

So of course Adrien gets face meltingly inebriated long before midnight even hits.

His dumbass best friend is laughing too loudly at a joke one of the bar singers makes and Eliott gives him a dirty look, tempted to hit him upside the head for depriving him of the _intelligent conversation_ he’s been promised. Thankfully, Christine is sober and engaging. Eliott’s been trying his hardest to reciprocate her advances, flirting a little and smiling in abundance.

But the thing is Eliott doesn’t _try_. That kind of thing normally comes natural for him so he doesn’t know what kind of slump he’s going through right now but it has _got_ to stop. It’s really cramping his style.

He places an arm behind Christine’s chair, nodding as she whispers about… the singer? The bartender? Eliott loses track of their conversation when his phone vibrates in his pocket. There’s no polite way to check on it with Christine sitting so close beside him, especially if the notification is what he’s hoping for it to be.

Eliott waits it out, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm in their itch to dig out the device.

It’s a losing battle.

“Just gonna run to the bathroom,” he says, distancing himself far enough from Christine so that she doesn’t take it as an invitation to follow.

 **lucallemant  
**What did you sell it for?

Eliott leans against the sinks, only _just_ managing to withhold pumping a fist in the air. He’d honestly thought that Lucas would let the conversation die.

 **srodulv  
**A chance to meet you

 **lucallemant  
**Gross

He giggles into his hand. God, he’d give up a limb to see Lucas’ face at this moment.

 **srodulv  
**Come on that was good  
You’re smiling

 **lucallemant  
**No  
You’re responding pretty fast for someone who’s supposed to be at a bar

 **srodulv  
**You’re responding pretty fast for someone who’s supposed to be busy

 **lucallemant  
**Whoops I finished earlier than I thought

 **srodulv  
**This bar thing is pretty boring  
Come out with me

 **lucallemant  
**What right now?

 **srodulv  
**Yes

 **lucallemant  
**No

 **srodulv  
**My nonexistent heart is dying

 **lucallemant**  
If you can get me out without my parents noticing then kudos to you

 **srodulv  
**Those are challenging words  
Maybe I’ll throw pebbles at your window

The door opens with a bang and Idriss comes running in with a flushed Adrien rushing to one of the stalls. Eliott winces when he hears the consequences of Adrien’s excessive drinking going down the toilet.

“Guess we’re cutting the night short?” His question is met with Idriss’ laughter and a groan from Adrien. Eliott straightens up, nonchalant of the fact that he’s been caught standing around smiling at his phone in the bathroom. His friends are too preoccupied to pick up on it anyway.

 **lucallemant  
**Ok  
I won’t answer though

 **srodulv  
**So cruel

They say goodbye to Christine and her friends while Sofiane rounds up the car. Adrien’s nearly asleep by now, depending on Eliott and Idriss to keep him standing. Idriss meets his eyes from over Adrien’s limp head and they roll their eyes at each other. When Adrien really wants to drink, the guy can get _drunk_ and the boys have dealt with the aftermath enough to have an established routine for whenever it happens.

Which means they’re all headed over to Adrien’s and one of them has to stay the night because Adrien’s a needy, weepy drunk.

 **srodulv  
**Keep talking to me at least

 **lucallemant  
**I’m going to sleep

 **srodulv  
**At 22h? Sounds fake

 **lucallemant  
**Go knock on someone else’s window, Romeo

 **srodulv  
**I’m a one window type of guy

 **lucallemant  
**Sounds fake

Eliott gets designated babysitter of the night, Idriss and Sofiane citing that he hasn’t done it in ages. In Eliott’s defence, he hasn’t taken his turn only because he’s been too busy being elsewhere for the last couple of times this has happened. He puts up a token protest just so it doesn’t come off too obviously that he would actually _love_ staying over at Adrien’s. Would have volunteered himself as tribute if the other two hadn’t already appointed him.

As they struggle to guide Adrien out of the car, Eliott looks up at the massive estate— well off is an understatement when describing Adrien’s dad. The man’s an engineer, often working out of the country for weeks and even months on end. Adrien used to stay over at Eliott’s a lot, making the trip all the way into the city where Eliott’s apartment is located, lonely despite of the relatives who come to keep him company. Until Lucas and his mom came along.

“Ah shit, we have to go through the basement so the alarm doesn’t sound. Sofiane, can you find his keys?” Idriss asks, unceremoniously dragging their friend past the pool and towards the back. “Eliott, a little help here?”

Eliott rushes to take half of Adrien’s weight, distracted as his eyes land on the farthest window to the left— it’s the only room with the light on. _Lucas_.

He’s pretty sure they make enough of a ruckus despite their best efforts to keep quiet but luckily the door to Adrien’s parents’ room remains shut.

Getting Adrien to his room upstairs is a workout, especially since Eliott is more focused on the shadows moving behind Lucas’ closed door than the task at hand. He walks Sofiane and Idriss back outside after, whispering and giggling to themselves, feeling accomplished in their mission to get Adrien home without his parents waking up. There would be hell to pay if Mr. Delacroix catches them interrupting his sleep, especially when they’ve been explicitly advised that he and his wife have an early flight to catch the next morning.

Back in the house, he pauses just outside Adrien’s room. Eliott’s eyes are stuck on the light streaming from the small gap between Lucas’ door and the floor. Lucas had probably listened in on their struggle to put Adrien to bed. Probably thinks either Idriss or Sofiane are going to stay over. Probably doesn’t know Eliott is part of the group at all.

Eliott feels a giddy rush run through him. The next morning can’t come fast enough.

 **srodulv  
**:)  
Goodnight, Juliet

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say
> 
> He's taking desperate to a new level


	3. Chapter 3

Hushed voices and soft footfalls are all he can hear when Eliott pads his way out to the bathroom closest to Adrien’s room. The smell of something baking in the oven is _mouthwatering_ and Eliott almost fails to stop his zombified self from heading down right away.  It’s still early in the morning— Adrien’s dead to the world and those noises from downstairs are probably his parents getting ready to leave for the airport. 

He has half a mind to offer some assistance, maybe carry their luggage into the car trunk in apology for making so much noise last night. Maybe even offer to drive them to the airport so that they won’t have to deal with an atrocious secured parking bill in apology for having indecent thoughts about their younger son. 

But when he exits the bathroom after freshening up, Mrs. Delacroix is already halfway out the door, dropping a kiss over a sleepy Lucas’ cheek with a final reminder to, “Take care of yourself and Adrien, okay? Love you, darling.” 

Eliott almost snorts. Of course it falls on Lucas to take care of everything, Adrien has the mind of a new born child. 

Lucas rolls his eyes, responding with a laughing, “Yeah, you know it. Have fun in Australia! Love you.” 

He waits until the front door shuts before descending the stairs soundlessly. Lucas heads towards the kitchen where Eliott sees an explosion of ingredients sit, but Lucas doesn’t immediately continue with breakfast, maneuvering instead to the counter where he hoists himself up as he taps away on his phone. 

The sight is oddly reminiscent of their first meeting and the memory brings a pool of warmth in his stomach. It’s way too early in the morning to make any drastic moves, though, and there’s a butter knife conveniently placed beside Lucas’ thigh. Sure it’s plastic, but Eliott doesn’t doubt that Lucas could make it hurt if he wants to. 

He clears his throat as he nears the counter, visibly startling Lucas when he comes into sight— it makes Eliott laugh, low and breathy as he rubs a towel over his damp hair. “Good morning.”

There’s no immediate response. Lucas is gaping at him, looking back and forth between his phone and Eliott as if he’d magically summoned Eliott up through their Instagram messages. 

He waits for Lucas to ask, even starts rooting around in his mind for a smart answer to the inevitable _what are you doing here?_ Except Lucas doesn’t ask. The latter slides down from the counter instead, wiping the dumbfounded look on his face to replace it with something resembling amusement. “Hi. Pancakes?” 

Eliott beams, a little weirded out by the lack of questions, of course, but he’s having a good start so he doesn’t prod. It reminds him of that strange English saying— something about gifts and horses and mouths. “Sure, need help?”

“No, thank you.” Lucas’ back is facing him, busy with whisking the pancake batter already waiting in a bowl near the stove. Actually, now that he’s paying attention, he notices that there are multiple bowls of batter littering the space. All looking different from each other. 

“You, uh, preparing for a feast here or?” Eliott asks jokingly, poking at a lime green container hosting what looks to be some leftover cookie batter. 

Lucas snorts. “Adri needs a ton of food after getting wasted or—”

“Or he’ll be grumpy and whiny the whole day,” Eliott finishes off, laughing fondly at the memory of his best friend refusing to talk to him for an entire _eight hours_ when Eliott had neglected to buy them breakfast after a particularly wild party in high school. 

“Yeah.” Lucas clears his throat. “Are Idriss and Sofiane up?”

“They’re not here.” 

“Oh.” 

Lucas stops whisking and the two of them are swallowed by silence as Lucas waits for the pan to heat up. Eliott lets it be, enjoying the way Lucas taps on the counter and grabs around for something to occupy his hands with. Eliott chuckles, draping his towel over the closest stool. “If I didn’t know better,” he says, pushing away from the kitchen island to step closer, his chest to Lucas’ back, as he reaches up to open the cupboard above Lucas’ head. “I’d think you’re a little nervous right now.”

He feels the huff of breath Lucas lets out and the adorable fidgeting stops just like that. Lucas is relaxed inside the loose cage of Eliott’s arms, the warmth of him intoxicating as it gets closer and closer and _closer_ — but Eliott isn’t moving, and _fuck_ that’s all Lucas. 

Lucas who is melting into his arms, head thrown back to lean his head atop Eliott's shoulder, the solid press of his body is inviting and the brush of his hair against Eliott's neck is doing funny things to his brain. The brain which scrambles for a way to put a stop to this without _actually_ putting a stop to this. Don’t get him wrong, Eliott is very much enjoying their closeness, but he's quickly learning that control is a challenge to grasp for whenever he’s dealing with the paradox that is Lucas. 

"But you know better," Lucas whispers, lips simultaneously too close and too far, the skin below Eliott's ear tingling with every soft exhale from the devil incarnate in front of him. He makes the mistake of looking down, then. Down at Lucas' innocent little smile and pretty eyes, made all the more frustrating from the fact that his actions are the farthest thing from innocent.

Eliott doesn’t move, caught in a trap of his own making. 

"You okay, Romeo? I've got some water here." Lucas' warmth disappears suddenly and Eliott's hands release their death grip on the cupboard handles, lowering down to hover uselessly in the ensuing confusion. He doesn’t even remember what he wanted from the cupboard in the first place. "You're looking a little thirsty over there," Lucas continues, reaching around a tray of cooling muffins for the case of water bottles behind it.

"Oh fuck off," Eliott snorts, lips dipping into a frown once he fully registers Lucas' words. The nickname is cute, sure, but Eliott prefers to hear something else. "Say my name."

Lucas peeks at him from over one shoulder. "No, I'm fucking off apparently."

Eliott pinches the bridge of his nose, biting back a smile when he hears Lucas stifling a giggle of his own. Quickly, before Lucas snarks his way out of proximity once again, Eliott reaches out and spreads both hands around his waist, spinning him around so that they're standing face to face. It's easier this way, for Eliott to tilt his head and work his charm. He smiles, small and close lipped, eyes lowering into an effortless smoulder he's perfected overtime. It's foolproof. Works every time.

Or at least it _would_ work if Lucas would just look at him instead of that stupid water bottle in his hands. 

"Say it." It comes out a little more whiny than intended so Eliott drops his irresistible smoulder act (it _is_ still a winning move _and_ a gift to mankind, fuck you, Lucas) and settles for ducking down to try and catch Lucas' eyes.

“No,” Lucas says, huffing out a small laugh as he squirms to avoid Eliott’s persistent attempts to connect their eyes. 

“You just love refusing me everything, huh?”

“It’s therapeutic.”

“Come on, did you forget my name again? Is that it?”

Lucas hums, only maintaining the coveted eye contact for a few seconds before lowering his gaze to a random point somewhere around Eliott’s chest. He leans his chin on top of the water bottle, lips pursed in a thoughtful pout that every cell making up Eliott’s being is dying to kiss off. “Mm,” is the vague response he gets. 

“Say it.”

“Or what?” 

“Or I’ll kiss you,” Eliott mumbles, knowing it’s bullshit the moment it’s out in the open— it’s his turn to pout, not even thinking of what his face is doing, dramatic in the fact that he doesn’t have a good comeback to that question. Call him a heartbreaker, a player, or any other worse names you can think of but he’d never touch anyone like that without express permission. 

Lucas seems to know it too, because even when his eyes snap up, there’s a level of incredulity in the slow raise of his eyebrows that’s bordering on comical. His mouth opens, presumably to call Eliott out, shove him verbally off kilter as he’s always done, but not a sound comes out in the end. Eliott watches those pink lips quiver, pressed tight together in a poor attempt to mask the budding smile behind it. 

But then Lucas relinquishes his hold on the grin, and deep, deep down, lower than the darkest waters of the ocean, in the blackest depths where no mermaid can even reach, Eliott knows he’s well and truly fucked. 

Lucas’ smile is big and childlike and though Eliott’s been a fortunate witness to one of these angelic expressions the first time they met, this one is somehow larger in magnitude. There’s no other word to describe it other than _megawatt_. It brightens Lucas’ lovely features to a whole new tier— he’s so fucking _cute_ about it too, shoulders swaying as he keeps looking at Eliott with that stunning smile and a look that one would usually reserve for a particularly dumb puppy. 

Eliott doesn’t even mind that he’s the dumb puppy in this scenario. Anything to keep Lucas smiling like that. 

And _whoa_ , that thought is a dangerous threat to the image Eliott’s carefully sculpted. 

He backpedals, schooling his features into the casually bored expression he usually sports, shaking his head slightly before getting all up in Lucas’ space. “You don’t think I’m serious?”

Lucas’ smile drops, abrupt like a switch has been flipped and Eliott gets a mini whiplash from it. He doesn’t get enough time to scrutinize the sudden change, though, when a yelp echoes in the kitchen and Eliott jumps back, offended.

Offended at the fact that the yelp had come from _himself_ because Lucas, brat extraordinaire, had pressed the ice cold water bottle against Eliott’s cheek with no warning. 

“Sorry!” Lucas is laughing, evidently not one bit _sorr_ y. 

“Oh you’re sorry?” Eliott places the water bottle down on the counter, having instinctively snatched it from Lucas’ grip the moment it touched his face earlier. 

“Very.” Lucas pushes off from where he’s been propped against the sink, dropping a glob of pancake batter into the pan that’s probably way too hot by now. It sizzles right away.

He waits until Lucas has safely put the bowl down and then Eliott turns him around again, holding Lucas close enough to catch the hitch in his breath as he crowds into his space once more. Eliott thinks he’s one strike away from getting stabbed by that plastic knife he’s been worried about earlier so he acts quick, dipping a finger into one of the muffin batters and wiping it obnoxiously slow over Lucas’ nose. “Oh.” He pulls away, faking surprise. “Sorry, how did that happen?”

Lucas opens his mouth, recovers fast, and, using a wooden spoon, deftly splashes some of the gooey pancake batter towards Eliott’s direction. “Oh no,” Lucas gasps, fake surprise equally as bad as Eliott’s. “You’ve got a little something there.”

Okay, he should have seen that coming. 

“Well, _you’ve_ got more than a little something,” Eliott says, scooping up an atrocious amount of cupcake batter before walking forward, menacing with his chocolate covered palms. 

Panic flashes in Lucas’ eyes only for a second before he’s smiling again and it’s not the same as the one from earlier but he’s looking adorable either way. So obviously Eliott has to swipe his entire palm over the side of Lucas’ face, leaving a large hand print of dripping chocolate behind. 

Lucas plops a handful of flour over Eliott’s head before he can pull away. 

Unfortunately, there’s no real adult currently present to stop the mess that follows. 

“Don’t— not the fucking— _ugh._ ” That’s Lucas, trying in vain to save his precious cookie batter from Eliott’s dirty, crumbly hands. “This is my own secret recipe you will _not_ ruin it.” He throws a sprinkling of cocoa in Eliott’s face and the latter promptly sneezes.

“I just took a shower!” Eliott takes stock of his appearance in their pause, catches Lucas snickering, and dunks his hand in a container for a handful of sugar.

“You wouldn’t,” Lucas mutters, narrowing his eyes as Eliott draws closer.

Eliott holds out both arms. “I want a hug.”

“Go away!” Lucas tries to run around him but Eliott catches him easily, one arm curling around his waist and the other dropping the sugar down the back of Lucas’ shirt. “You hooligan!”

It’s really hard to breathe around the laughter that gets a hold of him. He only slows down when he feels both of Lucas’ hands on his face and the smell of melted chocolate is overwhelming as Lucas drags sticky fingers down Eliott’s jaw, finishing up by wiping his hands clean on the neck of Eliott’s shirt. He’s a fucking nightmare, really. Eliott can’t stop smiling. 

A weird beeping sound buzzes from the stove and Lucas gasps, scurrying over to the pan where his sad excuse of a pancake now lies hopelessly burnt. “Eliott!” he screeches, shutting the heat off before turning to face Eliott with a playful glare.

Eliott laughs again, like there’s nothing else for him to do. “Finally!” 

“Finally, what?”

“You said it! My name.” 

“Oh my g— you’re so— no breakfast for you,” Lucas finally decides on, after fumbling with his words. 

“What, no!” Eliott wipes his hands on a wad of paper towels, ruffling his hair a bit and seeing a clump of flour drop to the floor. Yeah, he’s going to need another shower after this. 

“Make your own stupid pancake,” Lucas mutters under his breath, peeking into each bowl that played victim during their little game. All of them are missing chunks from the sides but Eliott thinks there’s still enough for them to make more than just a decent breakfast. 

He’s about to respond, ready to sweet talk his way into a second chance at a pancake when Adrien’s voice filters through the rose coloured scene they’ve created. 

“Eliott?” 

Dropping from a high is a shit feeling. But somehow, this particular high is especially brutal. Eliott feels Lucas’ eyes on him as his head swings sideways. But Adrien’s only halfway out his bedroom door, eyes still closed and lips curled into a miserable frown.

“Down here,” Eliott calls back, watching Adrien stumble the few steps towards the stairs. 

Eliott turns back to Lucas then, aiming to make a joke at his best friend’s expense. But Lucas is absently licking the chocolate off his fingers, eyes on the floor as he flicks his tongue around his thumb until it’s clean. 

“What are you doing?” Adrien sits heavily on the top stair, not even bothering to hide how useless he must feel at the moment. “It’s too early.”

“I’m—“ Eliott clears his throat, choking on his own spit when Lucas notices him staring. “Making breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” The word sounds muffled coming from Adrien but Eliott can’t check on him, can’t look away from Lucas’ knowing smirk. Lucas has squished himself against the side of the fridge, making it impossible for Adrien to see him from where he’s perched. “Man, no, stay away from breakfast.”

Eliott doesn’t respond, has trouble registering anything else other than the way Lucas sucks on the tip of his fingers before opening his mouth and placing his entire middle finger on his tongue, lips slowly closing around it. It’s fucking obscene and Eliott can’t breathe. 

“Eliott!” Adrien whines, sliding down the stairs one slow drag of his butt at a time. 

He jumps, glaring petulantly when Lucas snorts in laughter, removing those slim, torturous fingers from his lips as he steps out into his brother’s view. “Hey, Adri.” 

“Lulu!” Adrien exclaims, sounding like everything is suddenly right in the world. “I see you’ve met my baby bro— why are you guys all messy?” 

“Ask your friend, he started it.” Lucas runs up the stairs, pausing obediently when Adrien staggers into an upright position just to kiss Lucas on the forehead. Eliott watches the interaction, guilt churning at the pit of his stomach. “Right, Eliott?” 

Of course Lucas would use his name right now. Eliott gives him the middle finger in lieu of a response, which makes Lucas laugh in delight. 

“I’m gonna wash up and then continue with breakfast, okay?” Lucas says, ruffling Adrien’s hair before continuing to dash away. 

Eliott watches him go, half tempted to take the quickest shower of his life and flee back to the safety of his apartment. He can practically _feel_ himself starting to go haywire and he hates it— hates that the control he’s painstakingly crafted has spiderweb cracks creeping about, hates the fact that he’s so painfully aware that he only hates it whenever Lucas isn’t around. 

In the end, he doesn’t have to worry about fleeing anywhere. Lucas is gone by the time Eliott’s dressed up again, leaving a plethora of food on the table for him and Adrien to deal with. The kitchen has been cleaned as well, no evidence of the mess he and Lucas had left behind. 

“Where’s your brother?” 

“Friend’s house,” Adrien answers around a mouthful of food. 

 **srodulv  
**Leaving without saying goodbye? That hurts

 **lucallemant  
**Sorry did you want me to knock on the bathroom door?

 **srodulv  
**Maybe 

 **lucallemant  
**Oh well next time 

 **srodulv  
**Looking forward to it

“So how do you feel about Lucas?” 

Eliott accidentally inhales the apple juice instead of drinking it, coughing and sputtering as Adrien watches on, cackling at his suffering. “What?” he manages to squeak out as he pounds at his chest to soothe the burn. 

“What do you think of him? I can’t have my best bro and my real bro not getting along now, can I?” Adrien elaborates, handing Eliott his glass of juice back. Still triggered by the sight of it, Eliott reaches for a water bottle instead. 

“He’s cool.” Understatement of the century. 

“Good, great.” Adrien nods, poking at his last pancake. He yawns into his hand, obviously still not fully recovered from last night’s dumb decisions. 

 **lucallemant  
**My friend’s hosting a party next friday, wanna come with?

Eliott perks up, fork clattering on his plate as he hurries to reply. Adrien groans at the sound of it and Eliott mumbles an instinctive apology. 

 **srodulv  
**Wow inviting me to a party?  
Who are you and what have you done to my Lucas? 

 **lucallemant  
**I can take it back 

 **srodulv  
**No no I wanna come 

“Who are you talking to this early on a Saturday?” Adrien asks, nosy even in his miserable state. 

“It’s noon.”

“Like I said, early.” 

Eliott snorts, staring down at the _read_ sign below his message and sighing when Lucas doesn’t pick up the conversation. Of course. 

“Are you already working on your next person?” His tone sounds breezy enough but Eliott’s spent too much time with Adrien to not notice whenever he’s in one of his _moods_. His annoying sleuthing mood, to be specific. 

“No,” Eliott denies, placing his phone face down on the table. 

“Okay.” Adrien shrugs. “Just wondering, cause you were glaring pretty hard at your phone.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Okay…”

“Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?”

“ _Okay_.”

“Okay.”

“Stop!” Eliott’s laughing now, reaching over to knock Adrien upside the head. 

“Just saying, if you find someone, like, for _serious_.” Adrien finishes off his food, swiping a finger over his plate to scoop up some leftover syrup. “I’m all ears. God knows you’ve forgotten how real romance works.”

“Right. Serious.” Eliott rolls his eyes, throwing a stray chocolate chip at him. “I’m plenty romantic, thank you very much.”

“Your romance is so fake it makes me gag.” Adrien throws the chocolate chip back at him, half eaten. Gross. 

“Fuck you.”

“In your dreams, fuck boy.”

“Fuck _off_.”

  

* * *

  

On Monday, Eliott’s standing outside of his building with two of his classmates when Lucas passes by and smiles at him. 

Eliott looks away. 

He immediately feels like a dick afterwards but in his defence, Alena is the biggest gossip monger this side of Europe has ever seen and he doesn’t need rumours about the two of them to start up. Granted it’s a bit paranoid, he _can_ be friends with Adrien’s brother without Alena thinking anything of it— especially since it’s a widely known fact that Eliott and Adrien are attached at the hip.

But Eliott can’t help it, so he continues being an asshole on campus, relieved when Lucas responds like normal over their chat. It’s a convenient thing they’ve got here— flirting in private and strangers in public. Maybe he’s been overreacting about the whole control issue around Lucas. Maybe this _can_ work out as a casual thing, eventually, whenever Lucas decides to stop swerving him. Maybe they can get this tension out of their system all without Adrien getting involved. 

 **srodulv  
**I think there’s still some cookie dough behind my ear

 **lucallemant  
**Lol you deserve it   
I still have sugar everywhere 

 **srodulv  
**I can help you clean up

 **lucallemant  
**Nooo thank you

 **srodulv  
**Alright, suit yourself  
Just trying to free you from your sugar induced suffering

 **lucallemant  
**And whose fault is that?

 **srodulv  
**I take full responsibility  
So really I don’t mind helping 

 **lucallemant  
**Haha shut up  
Pay attention in class

 **srodulv  
**How do you know I have class?  
You know my schedule?  
You care?? 

 **lucallemant  
**Lol you are so annoying   
Adri’s got it in his head that we should be best friends from now on

 **srodulv  
**Oh shit   
He friendzoned me for you :(

 **lucallemant  
**Yeahhh, what are you gonna do about that Romeo?

 **srodulv  
**Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day :( 

 **lucallemant  
**That’s so sad

 **srodulv  
**For never was a story of more woe than the friendzoning of Juliet to his Romeo :(( 

 **lucallemant  
**So tragic 

 **srodulv  
**Did I make you cry 

 **lucallemant  
**:’(

 **srodulv  
**:’)

Tuesday and Wednesday go by swimmingly, with Eliott ensuring to stick close by his classes to prevent an accidental run in with Lucas. Despite the latter acting like it doesn’t bother him whenever they don’t acknowledge each other in public, it does stick around in the back of Eliott’s head. 

But he’s back on his bullshit by Thursday, barely even thinking about it as he walks in the hallways with an arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. Sofiane had mentioned once that she’s hot and smart and that they’d look good together, sprinkling in the little tidbit where Sofiane hints that she might be _the one_ , you know, since they share _so many_ common interests and all. Sometimes, Eliott wishes they’d just leave it well enough alone. 

Either way, he’d taken the bait, going after her if only to prove his friends wrong. He should have known it’s a rotten call the moment he’d acted on it. 

“What time are you picking me up tomorrow?” she asks before they separate for their respective classes. Eliott blinks, forgetting that he’d used Lucas’ friend’s party to chat her up initially. He’d honestly thought he’d be done and over with his game with her before Friday arrives. Clearly, he’s miscalculated.

An uncomfortable lump makes a home out of his airways but Eliott stubbornly swallows it down. “Uh, not sure, I’ll text you.” He can’t shake the feeling that what he’s doing is so incredibly shitty and his shoulders slump at the weight of it. 

Eleanor raises an eyebrow. “And you won’t conveniently forget to text me at the last minute?” she responds, all attitude beneath the need for reassurance. It makes him smile, though her face isn’t the one at the back of his mind.

“It’d be awful of me to forget my date.” Eliott twines their fingers together and drops a kiss on the back of her hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, promise.” 

There’s a metal trash can by the exit doors. 

This information is only relevant to his interests because there comes a deafening clatter right at that moment, as if someone had dumped an entire drum set inside the bin from right off the ceiling. 

Lucas is behind him when Eliott turns around and he hadn’t thought this possible, but the guilt swirling in his chest intensifies, his legs almost buckling under the immediate, desperate need to _fix something_. He knows what it is but the problem is that he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. His steps falter halfway through reaching Lucas, awkward and uncomfortable and _what the fuck_. This is who Eliott is. This is what he does. There’s no reason for him to crumble under Lucas’ disappointed eyes. 

Looking down, there’s some sort of shiny contraption squashed inside the trash. It looks like some kind of science experiment, but obviously it’s nothing too important if Lucas is going around throwing the entire thing out. 

“Are you al—”

“Don’t.” Lucas cuts him off with a harsh whisper.

Eliott doesn’t dare to go after him. 

  

* * *

  

**srodulv  
**Hey are you ok?  
Lucas   
Can you please answer me  
Adrien said your assignments are stressing you out?  
Was that what you threw out  
What’s it supposed to do?

 **lucallemant  
**Stop

 **srodulv  
**Stop what

 **lucallemant  
**Stop pretending you care

 

* * *

  

That’s the last he hears from Lucas. The rest of his messages go unanswered and Eliott would think that Lucas has blocked him if it weren’t for the fact that he can still view his profile in full. 

Eliott sips at his beer, not feeling like getting drunk at all. The party is boring. Surprise, surprise. Adrien forgoes this one, claiming that he’s turned over a new leaf and that he would never attend a party or get wasted ever again. Eliott would believe him if he hasn’t said the exact same thing every time he experiences a particularly gruelling hangover. 

Idriss is somewhere out in the crowd having a dance off with Imane and Sofiane is way too busy with school work to even think about partying so long story short, there’s no one to act as a buffer between Eliott and Eleanor, who is plenty gorgeous and plenty interesting but. 

But. 

Taking a long swig from his drink, Eliott takes Eleanor’s hand and shouts above the booming speakers, “Come on, let’s go dance.”

He stops himself from grabbing another bottle to drink on their way to the crowded ‘dance floor’. That would be rude, he thinks. Eleanor doesn’t deserve to feel inferior just because Eliott can’t get his shit together. 

Two songs in and Eliott almost calls it quits. He’s so severely distracted that he isn’t sure he’s listening to the same beat as everyone else. Eleanor can walk away without Eliott getting anything out of it— it’s not like it’s the first time he’s let someone go like that. In fact, those are his most amicable separations. 

Eliott sighs, tilting sideways when she goes in for a kiss so that it lands on his cheek instead. And there, with his eyes directed near the hallway, he sees Lucas with his friends, barely swaying to the music while the other boys compensate by going wild around him. As if feeling his gaze, Lucas looks up, directly finding Eliott’s eyes in the crowd despite the poor lighting. 

An ugly surge of spite rushes through him and he knows he has no right, absolutely no right to be angry at Lucas for dropping him with barely an explanation. Eliott _knows_ what he did but he also doesn’t understand Lucas’ reaction to it. He and Eliott are _tentatively_ friends, not enough of a thing to warrant Lucas being angered by Eliott going out with other people. 

Or so he convinces himself. 

Eliott brushes a hand through Eleanor’s hair, tilting her head up without breaking away from Lucas’ stare. He leans down, presses their lips together, and almost regrets it when Lucas drops his eyes to the floor. Forcing himself to push through, he closes his eyes, grasping for that giddy feeling that kissing someone you like, even just someone attractive, usually invokes. But as always, he feels nothing but the warm lips of another person. He could be kissing his film history professor right now and he wouldn’t feel any different. 

The next time his eyes open, Lucas is still there, swaying weakly to the upbeat song blasting from the speakers, but his eyes are on Eliott again. This time with a fire that both thrills and terrifies him. 

Lucas backs up right into a stranger’s arms. Eliott hadn’t even noticed the guy’s existence until then and he swallows, breaking off from Eleanor to watch, with painful realization, what’s about to happen. Eleanor nuzzles into the crook of his neck, mouths something into his skin, but Eliott only hears the too loud thrum of the bass, sees nothing else from the moment Lucas spins around, winds his arms around the other boy’s shoulders, and pulls him down into a kiss he so avidly denies Eliott. 

The beat drops and Eliott’s heart goes along with it. 

It’s jarring— the sensation he feels equating to that of falling from the peak of a rollercoaster ride. He’s fucking terrified of heights yet he still does it to save face whenever he gets dragged into those cursed theme parks. Pride always wins the game. 

This time, however, he gets pride to take the backseat and lets something else win. 

Gently, he detangles himself from Eleanor with a mumbled excuse that he doesn’t even register. His focus is on Lucas, who doesn’t open his eyes to glance at him even once, who lets himself get wrapped up in the stranger’s arms, covered by broadness that honestly kind of pisses Eliott off. He doesn’t take his eyes off of them, though. Follows every agonizing second until they’re stumbling into the hallways blindly, lips still locked. 

He rushes forward when Lucas’ hand shoots out to hold onto the edge of the entryway, finding leverage to stop from getting hurled straight into one of the host’s bedrooms. 

They’re speaking in hushed voices when Eliott reaches them, the stranger laughing and Lucas smiling and Eliott just about ready to punch himself through the nearest wall. 

“We need to talk,” he says into Lucas’ ear, holding his hand to take them somewhere quiet. 

“Hey,” the stranger interrupts and his voice irritates Eliott for no other reason than the fact that he’d had his lips on Lucas just a few minutes prior. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Back off,” Eliott retorts, barely glancing at the guy. He’s already poised to leave, eyes solely on Lucas— there’s a blankness to his expression that Eliott hasn’t seen before. He’s used to his boy’s lively eyes, his lovely smiles and he doesn’t quite know what to do with what he’s currently presented with. 

“How about _you_ back off, Demaury.” He can see movement from the corner of his vision and Eliott turns on his heel, irritated beyond belief. 

“Who the fuck do you—”

“Stop.” Lucas’ voice is quiet but both of them do stop at the sound of it. He pats the guy’s chest wordlessly before dragging Eliott out of the apartment and keeps going until they reach the stairwells of the back exit. “What.” 

Now that they’re alone, Eliott’s at a loss for words. 

“ _What_ , Eliott,” Lucas repeats, impatient. 

Eliott shakes his head, words jumbling in his brain as they all attempt to rush out at once. He tries to keep a chain on them, to filter out the ones that are relevant, to keep a cool head above the noise from inside his brain. His emotions burst in a concoction of colours and he fumbles to keep them hidden — the red of rage, the green of envy — but his fingers slip through their haze and the words spiral and spiral, until what comes out is a heavy loaded, “What the _fuck_ is your problem?”

He doesn’t mean it. He wants to drop down on his knees and ask Lucas for a second chance. 

But pride takes hold of the reigns once anger and hurt come into play. 

“My problem?” Lucas chuckles, hoarse and devoid of joy. “What’s _my_ problem? I’ll tell you what the fuck my problem is!”

Eliott looks at him, waiting, pressing his lips together to prevent the demon in his mind from speaking. 

“My problem is that everyone tried to warn me about you,” Lucas says, fists clenched by his sides. “My problem is that I didn’t listen! I had… I hoped…” His voice breaks at the end and Eliott’s hand twitches, but there are no tears for him to catch. Lucas stares on, livid. “My problem is that you want me to be yours but you’ve never even planned on being mine.” 

Oh. 

He opens his mouth, lets himself be cruel. “So you reject me and when I see someone else, you throw a tantrum.” 

“Fuck you, Eliott. You’d know if I was rejecting you.”

“So you want me to wait around for you, exclusively, until you deem me good enough to be in a relationship with, is that it?” 

Lucas shakes his head. “I’m not sure if you’re purposely being obtuse or if you’re just fucking with me right now.” 

“No really, what do you want here?” Eliott says, “A week ago, you couldn’t even remember my name and now you want us to jump into… what? A serious relationship?” 

“Yeah,” Lucas bites back. “Yeah, that’s it. I want something serious, Eliott. So you either get your shit together or you leave me the fuck alone.” 

Eliott shrugs, wrapping himself in multiple layers of _persona persona persona_ until he pushes out a convincing, “Fine. Goodbye.” 

When he walks away, he makes sure not to turn back. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens ™  
> Thank you for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

His phone lays face down on the nightstand, chiming with accusing vibrations from god knows where. He hasn’t exactly kept up with the outpouring of messages since Friday night. 

Eliott doesn’t know what day it is. 

With a burst of energy that sends both dread and respite coursing through his chest, Eliott pushes himself towards the bathroom, standing under the warm pressure of the shower until it turns cold, freezing pelts numbing where his back is hunched over the tiled walls. 

He doesn’t feel any better. There’s a steely blankness in his mind, a faint ringing echoing its walls that has Eliott wondering how he’s able to move around. 

When he gets out, shivering from the cool air breezing in from his open windows, the mere sight of the light emanating from his nightstand grips him with inexplicable anxiety. The familiar drop in his stomach is so unbearable he can’t even bring himself to approach his fucking phone. His eyes search out a pack of smokes out of reflex but a spiteful voice inside his head berates him. _Make it worse, why don’t you_ , it says, _go ahead and prove them right, then_. 

He goes into the kitchen and gulps down two glasses of water instead. He supposes his piece of shit brain has an effective way of keeping him in check sometimes. 

His laptop is asleep on the kitchen table when he turns around and Eliott taps on it, stares blankly at the timestamp on top of the screen— it’s Sunday afternoon. So he hasn’t been out of the grid for that long then. Not long enough to miss classes, at least. That’s good. It’s good. 

That eliminates the chances of school related emails being included in his growing pile of notifications.

He slides gingerly onto the chair, switching to his Netflix tab to resume whatever movie he’d been watching before he left for that party on Friday. Eliott watches the screen move, colours and sounds around him, none of it sticks but he appreciates the background noise. Appreciates the change in scenery. He’s gotten a little sick and tired of watching the ceiling in between bouts of fitful slumber. 

Eyes still dull from exhaustion, he follows the fast paced sequence playing in front of him until the muffled music clears up, until the teeny voices from his speakers start making sense again, until his brain latches onto the idea of the film, until he recognizes the title, remembers the bits he’d seen from Friday. 

He’s frowning down at a particular twist in the plot when his lock turns, dragging slow and soft, as if it would help mask the disruptive shriek of metal against metal. He doesn’t react much to it— only stares at the door with vague wonder, but ultimately can’t bring himself to care even when the door creaks fully open. He’s genuinely surprised to see Adrien’s head pop out from behind it, searching eyes wandering about until it lands on Eliott and a brilliant smile immediately lifts the entirety of his best friend’s face. 

So Lucas hasn’t told him anything. 

Eliott’s heart clenches. It has nothing to do with relief. 

“Hey!” Adrien sounds so excited that Eliott wants to smile, but his lips don’t get the memo. “I brought lunch. Or dinner, I guess? Whatever.”

He makes himself at home, banging around in Eliott’s kitchen as the movie plays on, now abandoned. Eliott relocates to the couch, letting Adrien’s off tune singing and his computer’s noisy faux explosions fill his head. It’s comfortable enough that Eliott’s eyes fall shut, head tilted back against the back of the couch. 

It’s dark outside the next time he wakes. His laptop’s now connected to his tv screen, playing a different movie. Adrien’s lounging beside him, spoon stuck in his mouth, eyes trained on his phone. 

“You gonna share that or what?” Eliott manages to croak out, reaching for the bowl of take out in Adrien’s lap.

Adrien practically jumps at the sound of Eliott’s voice and that finally, _finally_ fills him with enough humour to conjure up a smile. It feels fucking good. He hopes it lasts. 

“Fuck off, yours is in the fridge,” Adrien says once he recovers, sliding his bowl far away from Eliott’s reach. 

Eliott groans, “That’s too far.”

“Your place isn’t that big, calm down.” But Adrien gets up anyway, dragging his feet as he heads for the kitchen to heat up the leftovers. Eliott isn’t hungry, truth be told, he _does_ want to continue this streak of normalcy, though. He wants to keep smiling and feeling and eating. Maybe it would push him on a fast track to being himself again come the next day. Whatever being himself means.

Hot food is plopped down on his legs with no warning and his resulting yelp has Adrien in stitches. Eliott’s sorely tempted to dump the entire thing over Adrien’s head, see who’s laughing then, but he _did_ bring Eliott some free food so he gets one single pass for being an asshole. Eliott flips him off, lips still curled in a smirk as he nibbles on his first bite. 

They watch the movie mostly in silence, only with the occasional commentary from Adrien, who’s prone to being _very_ vocal about how angry the characters make him. There’s something off with his behaviour though, almost like he’s forcing the cheer into his voice. Eliott looks over just in time to catch him tapping away on his phone for the umpteenth time. 

So Eliott pauses the movie, confirming his suspicions when it takes Adrien a full minute to realize that there’s now silence where the movie villain’s cheesy droning spiel had just been. He reaches out, one hand curled into a fist, and Adrien stares at it blankly before slapping his palm against it, closing his hand over the fist, holding tight like a child afraid of the dark. He _looks_ like a child too, Eliott’s eyes adjusting to the lack of light to find Adrien’s wide, watery gaze on him.

“I fucked up, Eli.” 

Well that’s new. It’s usually Eliott who fucks up between the two of them. “How much?”

“Big time.”

Eliott sits up from where he’s half melted into the couch cushions, kicking at Adrien’s leg until he does the same. “What happened?” 

Adrien eyes him, says, “Nothing, don’t worry about it. I’m just being stupid.” But he sounds pitiful enough that Eliott can’t _not_ worry about it. 

“Look, Adri, we can’t both feel like shit,” Eliott says, earning a snort from the other end of the couch. “Only one at a time and I called dibs already so just tell me what’s wrong so you can feel less shitty about it.” 

Adrien wipes his eyes. Sniffs a little. “Lucas is missing.”

That’s the last thing Eliott wants to hear. “What?” he chokes out, forcing a neutral tone. His heartbeat picks up in protest. “Since when?”

“ _Friday_ , god, I should’ve gone to that stupid party—”

 _This is all your fault_. “What do you _mean_ he’s missing?” Neutrality out the window, apparently. Good thing Adrien doesn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to yank the hair out of his head as he is. 

“I don’t know, he’s been kinda weird recently to be honest, and now he’s not coming home or answering his goddamn phone.” Adrien nibbles on his fingernails, a nervous tick the both of them share. “I’m _freaking out_ , like— what do I tell our parents? They can’t even leave my brother alone with me for two weeks without him going _missing_ , fuck. I’m so useless. What if we get a baby brother? Or a baby sister? How much would I fuck up then? Jesus, I would probably _drop_ an actual infant and—” 

Eliott shakes his head, takes Adrien’s phone away to do _something_. “Calm down,” he hisses, not sure if he’s addressing Adrien or himself. “Have you checked with all his friends?” 

“The ones I know of, yeah.” Adrien grabs a cushion and buries his face under it. 

A thought occurs to Eliott then, unwanted but he’d rather that than any other worse scenarios. Maybe it’s not his fault. How bold of him to assume Lucas would care that much about Eliott, just another boy chasing him around. Maybe the answer is much simpler. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with him at all. “Maybe he met someone,” he suggests, and he has no right to feel jealousy catching fire like a candle wick, rapid to burn. “Went home with them?” 

“No,” Adrien denies, muffled. “Lucas doesn’t do that.”

Flashes from Friday night’s party make him swallow, throat clicking at the image of Lucas and _that guy_ headed fast towards the bedrooms. “You sure?”

“Uh huh. Hundred percent.” 

Adrien’s phone interrupts them with a startling ring. Instinctively, Eliott slides a finger to accept the unknown call, putting it on speaker so Adrien could hear as well. “Hello?” Eliott answers, hesitant, when Adrien looks like he doesn’t plan on emerging from his cushion any time soon. 

Confused silence, and then a timid, “Adri?”

Lucas’ voice. Eliott drops the phone on the table like it’s suddenly grown spikes. 

It’s a good thing Adrien comes alive at that moment, his cushion flying off the living room and into the kitchen. “Where the _fuck_ have you been?!” he practically screeches in the general direction of the phone. 

There’s some static, the sound of sheets ruffling. “I don’t— I don’t kno— no, shit, hold on.”

Adrien’s face is flushed with anger. “The fuck you mean you don’t—” He rubs a hand over his face. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Eliott sincerely doesn’t know whether to be thankful of, or lament the fact that Adrien keeps the phone call on speaker. 

“Of course? _Of course?_ So why the hell haven’t you been answering my calls, Lulu?”

“I’m sorry, my phone died,” Lucas groans from the other end, sounding miserable. Like he’s—

“Are you hungover?” Adrien voices out the question in Eliott’s head. 

“ _Yes_.” The one word packs such heavy attitude it almost makes Eliott laugh— until he remembers it’s _Sunday evening_ so Lucas being hungover means he’s been drinking again on Saturday and well into the morning after. “Would you tone down a little?”

“No, I won’t tone the fuck down. Do you know what time it is? And you sound like _that_? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.” 

“I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Lucas,” Adrien pronounces the name slowly, how he always does when upset. “Where are you?”

Unperturbed, Lucas repeats, “I said I’ll be home _tomorrow,_ father _._ ” And then he hangs up.

Adrien looks two seconds away from flinging his phone out the window. It’s times like this when Eliott truly appreciates being an only child. 

“Whose phone number was that?” Adrien asks, visibly holding back from redialing the unknown number.

Eliott shrugs and heads into the bedroom for his phone; there’s no harm in checking his contact list. He figures it’s time to stop avoiding the inevitable anyway. At least Adrien being present would alleviate some of the stress from checking on his unread messages. 

Turns out he doesn’t have the phone number Lucas used registered on his phone either but what he _does_ find out is that Lucas has blocked him on Instagram. And it shouldn’t hurt. It really, really shouldn’t. It’s a fucking _phone app_ , the act is borderline juvenile. The laugh he lets out is rusty, unfamiliar to his own ears, bitter in its quietness. He should have seen it coming, it’s what he deserves after all. But knowing so doesn’t make it feel any less horrible.

“You okay?” Right. Adrien’s there beside him, clueless as to what Eliott’s done to his precious little brother. Eliott knows he’s played a dangerous game and now Lucas holds all the cards.

“Yup, just peachy.” Eliott shoves his phone behind the couch. Out of sight out of mind. “You want a drink?” 

Adrien sweeps a hand over his eyes. “I need _ten_.”

“I only have cranberry juice.”

“Ugh, fuck.”

“We can use the fancy glasses and pretend it’s wine.”

“Yeah, okay, close enough. Juice me up.”

 

* * *

 

Come Tuesday afternoon, Eliott feels less like living as a hermit deep into the woods and more like _throwing_ _people_ deep into the woods. 

Irritation simmers at the surface of his skin like gasoline, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation. So he does his best to stay away from the crowds, and forces himself to interact only when he’s cornered, because apparently some people can’t read the atmosphere despite his closed off demeanor. 

 _Mysterious_ , some would call him and it’s so fucking stupid. _Aloof. Intimidating. Cool._  

He’d laugh if he weren’t so keyed up, throat scratchy with the urge to snap, shoulders hunched to keep in a festering fury he has neither time nor will to put out. 

It doesn’t help that his hands have developed a mind of their own, obsessively checking for a message that will never show up. He’s irritated that there’s only one voice he wants to hear. He’s irritated that people still try their luck in approaching him, he’s irritated that they laugh and speak and move around him like he isn’t some ticking time bomb. He’s irritated that despite all the noise and the clamour, everything is _still_ so goddamn boring, nothing to pull him out of his head, nothing to crack open his barrier, nothing nothing _nothing_. 

His most wakening moments happen during the events leading up to, and the ones following after, himself getting punched in the face. 

It’s exactly how it sounds like, but in Eliott’s defence, it's completely and utterly _not_ his fault. Just a giant misunderstanding and too much testosterone involved in the mix. 

It happens when Eliott’s just about to leave campus, skipping out on the final half of his last class so he could catch the early bus and continue being miserable at home. Hands busy untangling his headphones, he doesn’t realize he’s got company in the hallway until he hears a very unimpressed, very familiar voice coming from the other end. Eliott throws himself into the next hallway, heart beating erratically while he stands with his back plastered against the wall. 

“Listen, Nathan,” Lucas is saying, thankfully unaware of the film worthy stunt Eliott had just pulled. He slumps down on the ground and accepts the fact that he’s officially the king of being at the wrong place at the wrong time nowadays. 

Or maybe the king of eavesdropping is more accurate?

His phone vibrates against the floor where it’s shoved inside his pocket and Eliott scrambles to kneel up, cursing under his breath as he fumbles to muffle the sound of the missed call. 

Cautiously, he peeks out, but both boys are still occupied with their conversation. Eliott ducks back into his hiding place, rationalizing if the loss of dignity he’d experience should someone catch him crab walking towards the staircase would be worth dodging Lucas’ ire.  

Maybe he simply puts the _king_ in panicking, at this point.

“Nigel,” Nathan— or Nigel, really, corrects him. Eliott winces in sympathy. So that’s how Lucas plays it, huh. 

“Nigel. I’m sorry about the party,” Lucas continues, and Eliott knows exactly what he’s going to say next. “I was a little drunk.” Fucking hell. 

Nigel lets out a breathy laugh. “Come on, Lucas, you can’t say you felt nothing.” 

Alright, Eliott’s sympathy is quickly fizzing out. 

“Feel what?” 

“There’s something between us, Lu.” 

“We met four days ago,” Lucas deadpans, ruthless in a way that has Eliott a little taken aback. There’s no hint of the playful tone Lucas had always used around him.

“You kissed me at the party.”

“I said I was drunk.” 

“You _weren’t_ , why don’t you just give us a chance? I could be—”

“No,” Lucas interrupts, “it’s nothing to do with you, you’re a great guy so don’t bother wasting your time on me.”

“You’re not ever a waste of time.” 

That gets a laugh out of Lucas. “That’s uh, sweet, but I’m serious. Please.” 

Eliott squeezes his eyes shut. _You’d know if I was rejecting you_. He thunks his head on the wall behind him, staring up at the pale ceiling as he wills for time to turn back. 

But of course it doesn’t. All that happens is that Eliott misses the rest of the conversation he’s listening in on and only realizes it’s over when shuffling footsteps make their rapid way straight towards where Eliott is squished into a corner. 

And oh shit, oh shit, _oh shit_ —

Except Lucas rushes right past him, anticlimactically. 

Eliott knows he’s got about two seconds to decide whether he’s going to let him go or if he’s going to gather the balls to at least apologize. 

In an act of bravery that probably surprises the deities themselves, Eliott calls out for Lucas, wincing in preparation for a storm as he traces the way Lucas’ entire body tenses up. A voice in his head tells him to leave it, that they’re headed straight for corrosion and nothing he says would change anything. Eliott almost succumbs to it.

But Lucas keeps walking, not once looking back, and Eliott feels a deep-seated panic settle over him, the magnitude of it louder than the jeering from his own mind. He trips all over his own two feet and hurries to match Lucas’ pace. “Lucas, please, I just want to say—”

“Sorry?” Lucas bites out, only stopping when Eliott physically stands in front of him to block his way. “Is that what you wanna say? Or are you above apologizing to your failed conquests?” Eliott recoils, mouth gaping a little but Lucas doesn’t let him speak. “Nevermind, I don’t actually care. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Adri.” 

Lucas keeps his head lowered, and Eliott’s chest constricts, hands slightly shaking where they’re hidden inside his pockets. God, he’s always been terrible at confrontations; he’s either too angry or too much of a coward to say the right thing. It has never occurred to him to apologize in exchange for Lucas’ silence, though, and he doesn’t want Lucas to think that’s all Eliott cares about. He only wants to— he wants to—

What? What exactly does he want?

Lucas steps to the side, intending to walk off again, and Eliott can’t have that. He doesn’t have the words lined up quite readily in his mind yet but he knows, for sure, that if Lucas just stays for a _couple more minutes_ , the words will come to Eliott. He can feel it, it just—

His hand belatedly grabs for Lucas as his mind chases after the words, almost missing Lucas’ arm entirely. But just as quickly as he’s held, Lucas shakes Eliott off, stepping backwards violently enough to have him careening into the wall. It goes against Eliott’s every instinct to not reach out steadying hands as he watches Lucas stagger. It’s only the intensity of Lucas’ glower that stops him, like he’d have no problem smiting Eliott into smithereens if he dares to lay another finger on him.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” Lucas throws his backpack on the ground between them and Eliott watches it skid to the tip of his boots, a dawning dread churning at the pit of his stomach. “You made it _very_ clear where you stand, Eliott. Now why don’t you be a man of your fucking word for once and just _fuck off_!” 

A part of him flares at the harsh words, naturally, but Eliott understands he’s reaping his own harvest. Although Eliott is many, _many_ terrible things, not once has he ever refused to take responsibility for the hurt he’s caused, no matter what state of mind he’d been under at the time. So Eliott shoves down the anger that heats his blood, ignores the temper pounding at his head, and swallows twice before speaking. This will _not_ be a repeat of Friday night. 

He picks up the discarded backpack and carefully approaches, making sure to leave enough space between the two of them so as to not smother Lucas. “Please,” he says, voice quieting as he stretches an arm out to hand the bag back to its owner. “Just look at me, please?” 

Lucas’ shoulders rise and fall with each breath, the very picture of righteous fury, but when he does look up, Eliott’s met with none of the animosity he expects. Instead, Lucas’ eyes are wide and scared, tears threatening to spill from those lovely blues. Eliott is shot by the sight of it, unprepared to see Lucas — headstrong, spitfire Lucas — looking so devastated. 

He can’t comprehend how someone so beautiful could allow someone as unworthy as Eliott close enough to hurt.

“Don’t do that,” Lucas says just as softly, and Eliott flinches as a finger ghosts along below his eye. He brings his own hand up, chasing after the whisper of Lucas’ touch, and Eliott realizes he’s also crying like some pathetic echo to Lucas’ feelings. “Stop it, I’m supposed to be cussing you out right now,” Lucas scolds, snatching the bag from Eliott’s hand. “I can’t do that if—”

Eliott would have loved to hear the rest of that sentence, even if it’s just more insults hurled towards him. He’s sunk low enough to admit that anything is better than a cold shoulder from Lucas. 

As it is, he never gets to hear the full of it, because someone is pulling him back by the arm in one second, and then he’s down on the floor in the next. Eliott registers the familiar pain at the bridge of his nose once his head stops ringing.

Fuck, at least that punch literally _knocks_ the sadness part of his rapidly cycling moods— Eliott doesn’t feel much like crying now. No, irritation comes flooding back with a vengeance and if it weren’t for the sight of Lucas’ figure standing in front of him, Eliott would’ve gotten up and returned that blow twice as hard. 

“What the _fuck_?” Lucas yells at the perpetrator, blocking Eliott from view when the guy tries to go in for more. Eliott sits up, one hand feeling around his nose, content to let Lucas handle whatever the hell’s going on for now. “What’s your problem?” 

“He’s bothering you!” Ah. Good old Nigel. Where did he even come from? 

“We were _talking_ ,” Lucas hisses, shoving Nigel back when he hovers too close. “Would you fucking chill? What are you even doing here—” 

“Talking?” Nigel sneers, eyes cutting towards Eliott, who waves back with a slightly bloody hand and inwardly snickers when it seems to piss the guy off even more. “I was fucking worried about you, that’s why I came back and this is what I get? Is this why you rejected me? Hung up on Demaury, are you?”

“I’d watch the next words coming out of that mouth, Nick.”

“It’s _Nigel!_ Fuck, whatever, you want to be another notch on his bedpost? Go ahead, but don’t come crawling to me when he—”

Eliott pulls Lucas back and launches himself forward, letting the satisfying crunch of Nigel’s nose under his knuckles power him through the inevitable sting that comes after. Behind him, Lucas mutters a high pitched, _Jesus Christ_.  

“Stop, just _stop_. Sit _down_ , Eliott.” Lucas rushes to push himself in between the two of them and it would be so, so easy to move him. Just put Lucas to the side and continue letting off some steam, but Lucas doesn’t sound like he’s playing around and Eliott would like to live until he graduates, at least. 

To Nigel’s credit, he does look like he’s regretting everything he’s said right about now. Maybe part of it’s the bleeding nose but Eliott would bet it’s mostly due to the pissed off expression Lucas is currently wearing. 

“Sit,” Lucas repeats. Eliott sits with only minor grumbling. “You.” He directs his scathing voice towards Nigel who’s halfway to quaking by now. Eliott scoffs, the guy wouldn’t survive a day as Lucas’ boyfriend. “Go to the nurse.”

“You’re making me go alone?” Nigel squeaks out.

“Want him to hold your fucking hand or something?” Eliott can’t help but pitch in, biting back the rest of his words when Lucas levels him with a look. 

“Shut up.” Lucas rubs a hand all over his hair, making a bigger mess out of them. “You know what?” he says, chuckling a little maniacally, “I don’t even want to deal with either of you.”

And then he just takes off to the end of the hall. Eliott, for the second time within the hour, falls all over himself to follow. He _still_ hasn’t apologized and he has to do it _now_. 

“Lucas, I am so fucking sorry,” he blurts out once they’re alone at the stairwell. Eliott’s still standing by the door, hesitant to keep going as Lucas eyes him from the bottom of the stairs. “I was a dick on Friday and even before that I— I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.” 

“Okay.” Eliott’s head snaps up, and Lucas laughs, backing up until he hits the wall, the distance between them ever increasing. “Okay, I just. I just don’t get it. Why did you go after me if you were just going to ignore me in campus? And why did you go for someone else while I… while my dumb ass finally thought… I mean, I know you aren’t exactly a date to marry type of guy but _come on_ , me and her? At the same time? Why?”

Eliott shakes his head against the questions, words stuck at the tip of his tongue, refusing to come out. He has so many and too little to say all at once. He wants to say that Lucas scares him so he’d taken the coward’s way out. He wants to say that he only did it to prove something to himself— wants to say that he _failed_ to prove that exact something to himself.

“I freaked out, okay? I just, I didn’t— I don’t know how to handle you,” he forces out, voice small, vaguely aware that none of that likely made a smidgen of sense. Even so, he makes his way down the stairs with no protests coming from Lucas. 

“And?” Lucas prompts, sounding slightly less murderous this time.

“And what?” Eliott steps down the last stair, finally on level ground with him. 

“That— that’s it?” 

“I don’t know…” 

A long silence follows, like Lucas is waiting for him to continue. But it quickly becomes apparent that no follow up is coming through. “Nice. Okay. Good talk,” Lucas snorts, “see you around.” 

“Wait, wait.” Eliott truly hates himself for losing words when he needs them most. “Lucas, please, I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

There’s a lump in his throat that threatens to choke him up every time he wants to lay it all out in the open— a well groomed defence mechanism, maybe. And the easy solution is to shift the blame away from himself, remind Lucas that Eliott’s free to do whatever he wants as long as he’s not committed to one particular person, but he knows that’s not the point here. What Lucas wants to hear is something that Eliott is yet to admit even in the safety of his own head.

The fire exit door opens to mild chattering from a group of girls heading up the stairs and Eliott doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t care about how this might look like to them. Lucas, on the other hand, takes it as an opportunity to shove past Eliott. 

“Better fix that then,” Lucas whispers, drawing close yet maintaining it so that not a single part of them is touching. “Cause you can think all you want, Eliott, but you’ll never have me.” 

Looking into his eyes, Eliott understands the phenomena of even the warmest blue oceans being unable to hide the cold black down under if you only push deep enough. They brush shoulders as Lucas slips inside the door, leaving Eliott to stand alone on the landing, struck speechless.

 

* * *

 

Eliott’s figured it out, you know. The big elusive formula to avoiding heartbreak.

He’s sitting on Sofiane’s couch, a bag of ice pressed to his smarting nose. He doesn’t think it’s broken but then again, it’s gone too numb for him to really tell. 

Going numb. That’s it, that’s the formula. 

It’s worked out so, so well for him. People can say shit all they want but Eliott still thinks he’s lived some of his best years ever since he just stopped caring. Except somewhere along the way, he’d made a mistake, had possibly gotten too complacent, too confident with the life he’s gotten used to and now—

He’s tripped up. Because he sure as hell is the furthest thing from numb right now. 

And it honestly hurts like a fucking trainwreck.

_You’ll never have me._

He squeezes his eyes shut, welcoming the sting that comes with the movement. “Sof,” he calls out, a little nasal from how careful he is to not agitate his injury. 

“Yeah?” The cushions dip under Sofiane’s weight and Eliott feels a glass of water and some painkillers being shoved into his hand. 

“Why did you wait so long for Imane?” 

His question goes unanswered long enough for Eliott to remove the ice bag off his face.

“What?” Sofiane asks, rightly confused.

Eliott sighs, “You’ve had a crush on her since before high school. It’s not like you’re ugly—”

A snort, “Well thanks.”

“—and there were lots of easier options,” Eliott continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Plus we’re friends with Idriss! Isn’t that, I don’t know, intimidating?” 

“I’m not looking for an easy relationship, Eli, I want a real one.” Sofiane shrugs. “Why would I be intimidated? Idriss is nice and I haven’t done anything wrong so it’s not like—” 

Eliott looks up when Sofiane cuts himself off, watching the morbid realization settle over his features. “What?” He might as well play dumb for as long as he can. 

“Who did you get in a fight with?” 

“I told you, some punk with a hero complex.” 

“Over what?” 

He puts his nearly melted bag down and reaches for the glass of water, taking his time in swallowing down the painkillers. “Nothing.”

“Eliott, I can’t help you if you won’t tell the truth.”

“Who says I need help with anything?”

“Uh, the fact that you came here with a bleeding nose for starters?” Sofiane shakes his head, watching Eliott practically drown himself with his glass of water. “Eliott.”

“Hm?”

“Please tell me you listened to what I told you at that party.”

Oh god, he really should’ve gone to Idriss. There’d be less sympathy and more laughing but at least Idriss doesn’t know that Eliott’s maybe slightly a little more than attracted to Lucas. 

“What party?”

“Stop acting dumb!”

“I’m not!” 

A pillow is thrown at the crown of his head but it thankfully misses his face, and Sofiane sounds like he’s laughing more than anything, so Eliott figures it’s safe to drop the act. “Okay, fine, no, I didn’t listen.”

“Ugh, _Eliott_.”

“I know. And I fucked up.”

“Already? It’s been less than a month.” 

“I _know_ , fuck.” 

“So what happened?”

Eliott shrugs, getting up to toss his ice bag in the sink. “Nothing. He told me to leave him alone.” 

Sofiane’s got a strange constipated look on his face. Good to know some of his friends have that much faith in him. “Wait, Lucas said to leave him alone?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

He returns to the living room and drops back down on the couch. “Unless ‘why can’t you just leave me alone’ has another secret meaning I’m not aware of then yes, I’m very sure.” 

Sofiane whistles lowly. 

“It was my fault though,” Eliott admits, poking at the threads peeking from the cushion covers. “He saw me and Eleanor.” 

“Oh.” Sofiane actually looks a little apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t know—”

“It’s fine, nobody forced me to approach her. And I said some shitty stuff too so it’s not like it was all because of that.” 

“Adrien doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Mhm.” Eliott pulls at the ends of his hair, only feeling slightly better now that someone else is privy to his little secret. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“I mean, nothing happened right? So is it so bad to just move on from this?” 

“Yeah. Problem is that I _don’t_ want to move on.” 

Hearing that, Sofiane straightens his posture, turning fully on the couch so that his whole body is faced towards Eliott. He sees enough of Sofiane’s giddy smile from his peripheral to feel like he’s just activated the guy’s slumber party mode. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Sofiane goads, grin widening when Eliott responds with a groan. 

“Shut up.”

“No, really, is _the_ Eliott Demaury actually crushing on someone right now?”

Gross understatement. “I will eat all the food in your fridge if you don’t stop.” 

Sofiane laughs him off, arms swaying about as he wiggles in his spot and _damn_ , are the guys really going to be so happy to see Eliott catching feelings? Well, probably not Adrien considering the context but still. 

“Are you gonna do anything about it?” Sofiane stops his bird mating dance and schools his expression into somewhat of a serious one. 

“Which part of he told me to leave him alone did you miss?” 

“Fuck, that’s right eh?” Lip caught between his teeth, Sofiane peers up at Eliott like he’s got something to say but is holding back for whatever reason. Eliott narrows his eyes at him until he continues with a hesitant, “How about give it some time? And then shoot him a text message? No harm in asking for one more chance, it’s a yes or no question.”

“He has me blocked on Instagram though, and he never gave me his phone number.”

“Oh my god.” 

“Yeah.” Eliott thunks his head back down on the couch, fingers busy tracing invisible patterns on the covers. “How did Idriss react when he found out about your crush on Imane?” 

Sofiane shrugs, slumping down on the space beside Eliott. “He got all winky and said he’d put in a good word.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” A pause, and then socked feet poke against his, annoying enough to have Eliott looking away from the very interesting ceiling Sofiane’s apartment has. “But I also don’t have a, uh, colourful relationship history like you so… no offence.” 

Eliott blindly throws a cushion in Sofiane’s direction and relishes in the squawk that follows. 

“But hey?” Sofiane continues when Eliott doesn’t say anything in response, “let it rest for a while, Eli. If you still feel the same after that, then at least you’ll know it’s really serious this time.” 

He already knows. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Eliott.”

“Hm?”

“You weren’t always like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, so Eliott isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say in return, but it seems like Sofiane isn’t looking for a response anyway. “Adrien’s known you forever and yeah, the past couple of years might be at the forefront of our minds right now but we know you’re a good guy. Adri knows that the most.” 

Eliott quirks an eyebrow and Sofiane raises his hands, palms up as he shrugs. 

“All I’m saying is that things might not be as bad as you think they are, okay?” 

“Okay.” Eliott still thinks it’s pretty bad, but he’s not going to argue against a source for hope. 

 

* * *

 

Eliott wishes he could say he gets productive for the next two weeks that follows but really, all he’s done is drink coffee, pretend to start on his assignments, and miss Lucas’ snarky messages. Not necessarily in that order. 

Sofiane’s taken pity on him five days in and sometimes lets Eliott borrow his phone to pine over Lucas’ Instagram posts. Granted, Lucas doesn’t post much but the one photo he put up of himself looking bored at the skate park is enough to last Eliott for a few more days. 

He’s very much aware that he’s being wildly pathetic, rejecting parties left and right (he already knows they’d be boring anyway), rejecting _dates_ left and right— also potentially boring, but he’s mostly afraid of further proving to himself that Lucas has already ruined him for everyone else and _they haven’t even kissed yet_ — or hugged, for that matter. Pathetic indeed.  

On Friday, though, he gives into Idriss’ well-meaning and most likely accidentally set up date with one of his classmates. If only to ward off any suspicions from how weird he’s acting. Adrien’s been side eyeing him a little too much for comfort these days. 

So he’s on this date and the guy’s very cute but he’s also talking about American football like it’s a gift from the gods themselves. Eliott knows _nothing_ about American football. This would usually be the time when Eliott would excuse himself to the bathroom and speed google some facts on the subject so as to impress his date. But right now, he doesn’t care about being unimpressive at all. 

The guy, Aron, is an exchange student from California— all tanned skin and pretty smiles and endearing accent. He’s probably what the kids these days would call a snack.

It’s too bad Eliott can’t help but think that Lucas’ smaller silhouette would look beautiful against the red backdrop of the massive booths they’re sitting in. How he keeps wishing to brush his hand against soft brown hair every time he glances up, hands lying limp on his lap when he’s met with the blond of Aron’s neatly styled coif instead. The blue of Aron’s eyes isn’t quite deep enough and Eliott can pinpoint exactly which shade it is on his dried up palette at home. He still can’t figure out the right mix for Lucas’. 

Anyway, the point is that he’s losing his mind. 

When they reach a short lull in conversation, Eliott rushes to say, “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” And proceeds to lock himself in a stall, sit on the toilet lid, and stare at the lights blankly. 

The bathroom door slams open not long after and Eliott stands up on instinct, ready to remove himself from the vicinity should there be some kind of beef brewing, but only one set of footsteps pace to where the sinks are.

“Hey, you still there?” The person says, presumably into his phone.

Eliott reaches to unlock the stall, he’s had enough eavesdropped conversations to last him a lifetime thank you very much—

“Lulu? Can you hear me clearly?” 

 _You have got to be kidding me._ Fate must think this is funny. He must be some kind of joke to the deities or something. 

“I’m at work, Lucas,” the guy says regretfully enough and Eliott does pull the stall door open then, keeping his head down as he tugs on the knobs of the sink, washing his hands for lack of any other excuses to stay. “Where’s Yann? Didn’t you guys go together?” The tap shuts off, Eliott reaches for the paper towels. “Oh— oh, damn, good for him but— no, you should stay there and I’ll call your brother okay— what do you mean no? Lucas, shut up you _sound_ shitfaced.” 

If Eliott’s learned anything from his accidental sleuthing adventures, it’s that Lucas is a terribly reckless drunk. Finally raising his head, Eliott meets eyes with Lucas’ blond friend through the mirror. It’s admittedly a little funny how he gapes wordlessly at the sight of Eliott. 

Not one to miss an opportunity, Eliott takes advantage of the obvious distraction and snatches the phone from the guy’s hand — Arthur, his name tag says — he’ll apologize profusely later but Eliott really doesn’t want a repeat of Lucas going missing for an entire weekend.

“Where are you?” he says into the phone, noting that there’s no blaring music coming from the other line. If Lucas is where Eliott thinks he is right now then at least he’s outside the house already. 

“Whoa.” Lucas’ voice is slightly distorted coming from the other line but Eliott still sighs at the first sound of it after the too-long silence. “You’re not Arthur.” 

“No, so where are you?” 

“Nooo, where are _you_?” Lucas giggles into the phone and Eliott has to suppress a smile. Fuck, this is serious but Lucas is being an idiot. “You sound like someone I know.” If he’s being this friendly with Eliott then it only means that he’s past the point of tipsy and well into happy drunk territory. 

“Wanna take a guess?” Eliott easily dodges when Arthur tries to grab his phone, the latter flinching back in surprise when Eliott has the gall to put a finger to his lips and shush _him_. 

“Mmmm,” Lucas stalls, but Eliott knows he’s got the right answer. He tries not to dwell on the fact that drunk Lucas remembering his voice sends another one of cupid’s arrows straight into his heart. “Weed guy.” 

And Eliott laughs, inexplicably happy about that. “Where are you, Lucas?” 

“I don’t know…” His syllables drag as he speaks and Eliott hears some shuffling and then a worrying crash, before Lucas’ laughter can be heard from a distance. “There are two blue houses!” 

Yeah, Eliott knows exactly where he is. “Stay there, okay?”

“Why?” 

“I’m—” But he’s not sure if Lucas would only run off if given that information. “We’ll get you home.” He doesn’t wait for another response, returning the phone back to a stunned Arthur. “Remind him to stay where he is every few minutes, god knows how many times he’ll forget.” 

Eliott dashes out the restaurant like a man on a mission, bullshitting about some urgent emergency as he passes by a confused Aron. He feels bad, really, but if he doesn’t trust sober Lucas to follow any given instructions, then he trusts drunk Lucas even less. 

When Eliott gets off the bus and jogs the rest of the way to the house, it’s a relief to find Lucas’ hooded figure sitting on the pavement across from where the party is still obviously going strong.

“Lucas.” No answer, Lucas doesn’t even stir. “Lucas, come on, let’s get you home.” He reaches out gingerly, testing the waters by poking at Lucas’ arm. 

“Go ‘way,” Lucas says, sounding a lot less friendly than he’d been on the phone.

Eliott looks around and spots two empty beer bottles beside Lucas. He blinks down at them, having a hard time understanding if Lucas is actually even _more_ drunk than he’d been earlier. 

“You can’t stay out here.” Eliott sighs, crouching down in front of him. 

“Well why not?” Lucas lifts his head off his curled arms, unfocused eyes glaring at a spot just above Eliott’s right ear. 

Without much else to do, Eliott sighs again. “Let’s go.” He tries to tug at Lucas’ sleeves to get him to stand, but only succeeds in making Lucas stumble backwards from how fast he tries to get away.

“Don’t touch me, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Oh god, he’s dealing with a child. “I’ll tell Adrien.” 

“You won’t tell Adri _shit!_ ” Lucas stands up, finally, but only to walk up to Eliott and point unsteady fingers to his face. “You’re not even supposed to know where I am! He doesn’t even know I like— he doesn’t know you played me! You. Won’t. Tell. Him. Shit.” He pronounces each word with a hard jab to Eliott’s chest. 

And okay, fuck, he’s got a point. “Fine, suit yourself.” Eliott steps back, hesitating, but maybe it’ll be smarter to have someone else take Lucas home instead. He turns around, looking through his contacts to see if Sofiane or Idriss would be available. 

“Fine!” Lucas screams from behind him and Eliott looks over his shoulder in time to catch Lucas sitting back down on the ground, hands pressed to his eyes. 

No. Eliott can’t walk away from him like this again. 

Eliott marches back to where he came from and promptly throws Lucas over his shoulder, barely staggering even when Lucas starts kicking and punching as much as his drunken limbs would allow. 

“Let me down!”

“Not until you behave yourself.”

“Now!”

“You won’t get anywhere like this and you know it.”

“I fucking—” Lucas slumps down, body steadily getting heavier as he stops struggling in Eliott’s hold. “I hate you,” he mutters softly and that, moronically enough, is what makes Eliott stumble. He tightens his arms around Lucas, pausing to realign his balance. “I hate you,” Lucas continues, sniffing in between words. “Why are you even here? I told you to stop already.” 

Eliott slows his walk, Lucas’ hitching breaths sending freezing pelts straight to his chest. They stop moving once they reach a corner, Eliott lowering Lucas down so he can stand on his own two feet, but Lucas immediately curls up, crouching on the ground like standing is too much of a chore at the moment. 

“Hey, I’m sorry okay?” he whispers back, bending at the knees so that they’re level with each other. “I promise I just want to get you home safe, that’s it.” He digs around his pockets for his phone, placing the device inside Lucas’ hands once he finds it. “Here, Adrien is speed dial 3, call him any time you feel you need to. I don’t care if he yells at me, I won’t walk away from you again.” 

Lucas fiddles with Eliott’s phone, running his thumb along the screen once before clutching it to his chest. “I can’t go home.” He blinks, a tear escaping from his eye. 

Eliott brushes it away before he can stop himself. “Why not?” 

“My parents think I’m sleeping over at Yann’s and mom will be so disappointed if I come home like this,” he says miserably, more tears running down his cheeks. 

Ah. Shit. “Come on, get on my back.” 

Once Lucas is settled on his back, now much calmer than earlier, Eliott continues walking, but turns to a different direction this time. 

“Where are we going?” Lucas asks drowsily, lips pressed into Eliott’s shoulder. 

Where indeed. 

 

* * *

 

Lucas is a near dead weight behind him when Eliott finally gets his door open. It’s a struggle when Lucas refuses to cooperate and lets his legs slide down every time Eliott lets go of them to search for his keys. But eventually they do make it inside. 

Eliott drops Lucas as gently as he can on the bed, huffing once he’s successfully done so without cracking any heads in the process. 

He roots around his closet for some clothes Lucas can use for the night when the sound of jackets and pants zipping startles him from the task. He turns around, eyes wild, when Lucas starts throwing his clothes — _everything_ — off himself. 

Eliott almost wipes out when he slips on a sock in his rush to get to Lucas before the dumbass has the chance to remove his underwear off with his jeans.

“Stop, stop, _hey._ ” Eliott catches Lucas’ hands, laughing when Lucas opens his eyes just to glare at him.

“It’s so _hot._ ”

“It’s really not.” Eliott huffs another laugh, waiting until Lucas’ hands go slack in his before letting go, but he does help remove Lucas’ jeans when it’s clear that the latter is going to stay irritated until they’re off. 

It’s a workout to get him to wear a shirt, what with Lucas being hellbent on removing as many clothes as possible. Eliott knows it’s bound to get cold in the middle of the night, though, and he will _not_ be responsible for Lucas catching a cold in his bed. 

“You’re so nice,” Lucas mumbles once he’s settled, looking warm and cozy in Eliott’s loose shirt. He’s so fucking _cute_ , and it doesn’t help when Eliott feels those arms sliding around his neck, tugging him forward. Lucas doesn’t use much force to have Eliott following along helplessly, but it’s not like it would ever take all that much to have Eliott willingly inching into his space. 

Dredging up whatever’s left of his common sense, Eliott anchors his hands on either side of Lucas to keep somewhat of a distance between them. 

He shakes his head, arms trembling not only from the strain of keeping his weight off of Lucas. “No, you’re just drunk.” 

Lucas smiles, eyes half mast, still pretty under the hint of moonlight. His fingers brush maddening strokes over Eliott’s hair. “Eliott?” 

“Hm?”

“Why have you never kissed me?” 

Eliott’s heart thuds a frantic rhythm in his chest. “You never let me, baby.” 

The fingers in his hair stop moving, and Lucas’ eyes flutter close, Eliott watching the shadows of his lashes flirt along smooth cheeks. “I’ll let you now.” 

“I know,” he whispers, leaning down inch by minuscule inch. Lucas’ breath is warm and smells of alcohol, but Eliott knows he only has to duck down and bury his face in the space between his neck and shoulder to get his fill of the scent he’s truly been missing.

He doesn’t. Maybe in the future he’d have the privilege to do so. Hopefully.

Eliott lets their noses touch, light and fleeting, before he leans up and drops a gentle kiss over Lucas’ forehead. 

“Goodnight, Lucas.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wakes up from a nap 2 months later* hello good morning I come bearing a chapter 
> 
> I mean, it has a better ending than the last one so there's that??


End file.
